Gone
by Ptah Aegyptus
Summary: A Cybersix Alternate Reality Fanfic that branches off prior to Paradise Falling
1. Chapter 1

Preamble   
Alternate realities are created by people's decisions. Decisions create worlds and destroy others, because decisions matter. I wrote "Paradise Falling" on the premise that Von Richter made a different decision than the one he made that created the Cybersix reality as depicted by the Animation and the comics of Carlos Meglia and Carlos Trillo. 

The creation and destruction of worlds is not a trivial matter: Like the "Butterfly effect", where it is believed that the fluttering of a butterfly's wings in the spring could determine the number of hurricanes in the fall, a decision made in one part of the world by a complete stranger can affect whole peoples in another part. 

This story is set years before the events of "Paradise Falling", but after Von Richter made the decision that created that world. However, it is the story of a world where someone made a different decision, creating a completely new train of events that reached across a planet and would be felt for decades. A decision that created a new world, a different reality, where the events of "Paradise Falling..." never took place. 

Not because of the presence of someone, but by their absence. 

So, while reading this story, I invite you to think and imagine. Think of someone very close to you, who made an enormous impact on your life. Imagine how bright your future is now, because that person was there for you. 

Now imagine what, to you, is probably unthinkable. 

Try to imagine how different, how alien, your life and your world would become if they never touched your life. Not because they didn't love or care for you, but because they are...   
  
  
  


Gone 

An Alternate Reality Cybersix Fan fiction   
By Ptah Aegyptus   
Chapter 1 

The night wind blew across the rocky cliff, stirring the dust and sand. Very few of those living within view of this high location bothered to visit this barren spot that was so high above the Amazon jungle. And even if it was frequently visited (which it was not), it would certainly not be at night. Thus, there was no one there to be astonished or surprised when the sounds of feminine panting and grunting drifted up from the cliff face. Although the nearly full moon provided plenty of light, there was no one to see the hand that grabbed the jagged edge of the cliff face, to be followed by the owner. 

It was a young girl of 17 years, dressed in a green sleveless t-shirt, camoflage pants, and boots. She stood up, ran her fingers through the fall of hair that draped over the right side of her face, and looked over the jungle, back from where she had come. 

Her eyes went to the complex of buildings, houses, factories, and laboratories taking up several hectares of the Amazon Jungle. Her keen night vision ("Borrowed from the jungle owl" her father had told her and her siblings) was able to amplify the light from the small lamps and bulbs to make out the buildings. Many were made of wood, but a few were poured concrete. Her eyes picked out the large building where she and her brothers and sisters had been born from tanks that glowed green. A smaller line of lights led into the dark jungle and ended in darkness: It was "lights out" at the barracks, where she should have been, collapsed in her cot, exhausted from the busy activiites in which she and her 3499 other siblings engaged. 

But tonight was different: The drills and challenges that had taken place during the last 60 hours went way beyond the normal challenges that they all welcomed when the sun rose. So challenging, and so different, that she couldn't sleep for wondering what the results would be. 

At least, she knew what they would NOT be. The bitterness of that knowledge kept her awake, and eventually drove her out of her barracks contrary to regulations, and up 400 meters to this lonely spot. 

Officially, they had been told that there was going to be a sort of officer corps, to be chosen from the top 2 percent of the first batch of 500 siblings. Based on the results of the tests given in the last few days, at most 10 of her siblings would be given what was being called "Leadership Ranking". From them would come the core of the instructor corps. They would take over from the aging officers who had volunteered to train what would be the finest troop of soldiers on the planet. That was the Official Word. 

Unofficially, something much more important came to light. Father had been working on a project that could improve them, making them even stronger, quicker, and faster! A sister of hers, who worked occasionally with one of Von Richter's top co-workers, had overheard two members of the technical staff discussing the project in the hallway outside the lab she was cleaning up. They walked away moments later, wondering out loud who would volunteer. 

Everyone who heard this news wanted to volunteer. After some heated arguments, it was she who proposed the perfect solution. 

Thus it was that all the Cyber children of Dr. Maximillian Von Richter agreed that the one to take first place in the coming selection process for Leadership Ranking would be the volunteer. 

This Cyber, the sixth one born, looked up at the stars for a few long minutes, then dropped down heavily on the cliff edge, letting her legs dangle over the edge so that all she could see was jungle. And her home. 

A few moments later, she couldn't see any of that as she cried, releasing all the pain and frustration of the last few days. 

It wouldn't be so bad if she came in consistenly as number 300 or less in all the trials, maybe occasionally coming in in the top 100. Everyone was good at something. Only thing was, she kept winding up in the top four in almost all of the trials, only to be denied first place by a fraction of a second, a few centimeters, a trick move, a wrong turn, one almost-right-but-not-perfectly-correct choice, 

The first few times weren't that bad. In fact, the joy of seeing her roommate, Cyber Seven, come in first despite being the runt of the first batch of 500 cybers, easily swept away the bitterness of losing. _"I'm just warming up!"_ she kept telling herself, _"I came close this time! If she can win, then I can too!"_ So she went on to the next test, the next challenge, the next contest, even more determined to succeed. 

Her attitude changed as the hours wore on. To always come in so close, only to see someone else walk away with the top spot, would take a toll on anyone. The human instructors wrote only one number down on their clipboards before curtly announcing the next challenge. The number "7" kept appearing over and over, with a smattering of others, but never "6". 

Outwardly, nobody seemed to notice the taut lips, the glaring eyes, the knitted brow that concealed the growing bitterness and anger inside: All were expected to be good sports, and crying was for babies, and cybers never cried in the tanks when they were babies. But as Seven's wins piled up, her smiles faded and the concern grew in her eyes. Seven knew, as well as she did, how often her sister and roommate came so close, only to come up short in some way or another. She HAD to know! Cybersix knew she couldn't hide the anger, frustration, and bitterness. Certainly from the instructors, probably from her mother, but not from Seven. 

The last challenge, and the most heartbreaking, was the endurance trial, where they ran 40 kilometers, picked up a tag, and come back to the Compound with it. Cybersix happily snagged tag number 1, leading her tired siblings by several hundred meters, and passed Seven on the way back, who was behind by two kilometers. As she leaped, ran, and doged through the jungle, mind alert for obstacles, she momentarily forgot the pain of the last 48 hours. 

Three kilometers from the finish line, she heard a cackle like sparks of electricity. A vicious stab of searing pain shot through her left arm as she realized, to her horror, that she had pushed herself so hard to come so close so many times, that she'd burned her sustenance concentration down to dangerous, if not fatal, levels. 

Gritting her teeth and refusing to even whimper, she pushed on, only to have her left leg start to spark and spasm also. She missed landings, stumbled over mere twings, and lost precious seconds willing the pain away and forcing the protesting muscles to keep going. 

She never made it. Several hundred meters from the finish line, she fainted in mid-leap and fell to the ground, writhing and flopping about like a beached fish, as if being tortured by the green lightningbolts dancing over her limbs. It took eight cybers from the second batch to hold her down long enough for a ninth to pour three vials of sustenance down her throat. She woke up an hour later in the infirmary, the tag still clutched in her right hand, and a line of instructors and Techno doctors at her bedside, ready to take turns to chew her out for her carelessness, with a vocabulary that was broad, blue, vivid, and humiliating. 

She limped in to the cafeteria late, but not late enough to catch sight of Seven and the other winners seated at the front table with her parents. She had to satisfy her hunger with cold leftovers snatched between sessions of cleaning the dishes alongside the native servants, the normal punishment for coming in late. 

Cheeks red and head bent, she limped back to the barracks, went straight to her cot, got in, pulled the covers over her head, and fought a battle against her tears which, to her comfort, she did win. She stayed there until lights out, pretending to be asleep when she heard Seven's anxious voice asking if she, Six, was okay. 

_"Stupid little bitch!"_ she had thought angrily, _"She SHOULD know I'm not okay!"_

Sleep refused to come and give comfort, which made her even more irritated with herself. Defiant, bitter, and angry, she violated the rules and sneaked out through the window, evading the cameras easily. Goody Two-shoes Seven would undoubtedly report her, but her sibling looked so exhausted in her cot that she was sure she wouldn't notice until morning. She planned to be back long before then. 

And here she was, 400 meters above the jungle floor in one of the rare outcroppings of rock that formed mesas in the middle of the otherwise flat Amazon jungle, giving up the battle against her feelings and crying as if her heart was breaking. 

Cybersix wiped her soaked cheeks and looked up at the Milky Way, her night vision making it an even more glorious and beautiful sight than what normals would perceive, "Well, that DID feel better," she admitted aloud to herself, "Maybe a good cry DOES help once in a while." 

That little concession opened the way for others. _"I overcommitted myself, trying to do my best in everything without thinking about what I was REALLY the best at,"_ she thought, _"I should have backed off and conserved my physical and emotional energy for those critical contests that really mattered. Seven, being the runt of the batch, always has to plan ahead and budget her energy carefully all the time as a matter of course to even get through the day. Which, of course, explains why she's the #1 strategist in our batch: She may have been #1 a few more times than the others, but when she wasn't #1, she was #400 or less, conserving her strength for the next contest where she had her best chance of winning."_

She sighed gustily, "That's me," she admitted aloud to the moon and the Milky Way, "I have to get my butt kicked once before I figure out how to keep it from getting kicked the second time." 

She sat there for a few minutes longer, then got up, ready to head back to the barracks. 

Something flickered over the moon. _"An eagle."_ she thought, glancing upwards to see it against the starry background. 

But it was far too high to be an eagle, and didn't move its wings. Her eyes picked out another shadow against the starry night, then another, _"What kind of birds are those?" _she thought, following the trio that seemed to be flying in formation. Her eye then caught another. Four. Four shadows flying through the night. 

Suddenly, a faint star seemed to shine from each one, as if each held a flashlight in its claws, as they neared the zenith and slowed down. Cybersix blinked, _"What in the world?"_

A flash of light from the jungle pulled her attention away from the high flying shadows and toward a small, rapidly expanding yellow cloud. There was another flash, and an orange cloud suddenly appeared and began to expand. 

Terror suddenly grabbed at Cybersix's heart and squeezed it tight: the shadows weren't birds, but high flying aircraft! The stars were the lights inside them when their bomb bay doors opened, and the clouds were coming from bombs with altitude fuses! Her mind rapidly went to an aside made by an instructor during a lecture on airpower: "One thing you'll have to watch for is the banned use of chemical weapons. There are all kinds. The newest kind is the most dangerous. It's normally unstable, so the ingredients are kept in separate bombs and dropped from separate aircraft. If you see a yellow cloud, run like hell! When you see an orange one, you'll be lucky if you live long enough to kiss your ass goodbye." 

There were more flashes, and more clouds. The lights of the compound shone through the swirling clouds as the entire floor of the jungle was carpeted, although it was hard to tell whether the swirling was coming from the clouds or from the tears of the Cyber as she helplessly watched her family being quietly slaughtered in their sleep. 

The flashes stopped and the shadows passed overhead, but the yellow and orange clouds stayed, continuing to mix together and do their deadly work. Cybersix just stood frozen, numb with shock and loss. The urge to throw herself over the cliff in despair screamed in her head. 

The wind blew gently at her cheek, shocking her back to reality. She forced herself to stop, think, and analyze. She gazed at the clouds, trying not to think of the dead bodies underneath that had been so alive that afteroon. She concentrated on the billowing, swirling mass. 

Think. Analyze. 

The clouds were slowly, but perceptibly, moving east. 

Instinct and programming immediately took over, forcibly shoving the grief to the background. To the east lay some of the tribal villages who sent teams of workers in shifts to work at the Compound in exchange for money and goods. The men and women who had tactfully said nothing while she washed the dishes with them that afternoon were now dead, but their families lived in those villages! 

Cybersix turned and leaped alongside the mesa to the easternmost point. From there, she would scramble down, head through the jungle, get to the villages ahead of the drifting death cloud, and get them out of there! 

She arrived at the edge that looked the most broken down, and thus the easiest to get down quickly. As she spun around so as to jump backwards over the edge, she glanced up and saw a bright star flicker noticeably. 

"I'll get you!" she muttered under her breath to the departing bombers, "I don't give a damn that you're normals, I'm going to KILL you for this!" 

She dropped over the edge, plunged 20 meters, broke her fall by grabbing at an outcrop, paused, and then let go... 

_"Yes, I'll get you!"_ she thought, reaching out to grab at the next outcrop, _"If its the last thing I do, I'm going to get you!"_   



	2. Chapter 2

"I don't know if we can stay here." 

There was something eerie about the village that had been hastily evacuated the night before. Cybersix sympathized with Elio, the speaker and onetime head servant of the Main Residence for many years, "Yes, something just doesn't feel right about it, but I can't put my finger on it," she admitted as she watched the people returning to the small village, going through their homes, walking in their gardens, checking everything. 

"You can't tell?" 

"No." 

"Listen." 

She stopped and listened for several moments, "I don't hear anything other than people talking." she said. 

"That's just it, Cyber. Nothing. No pigs, no parrots, no birds, no monkeys. Nothing. Not even any flies or mosquitoes." 

_"Dead."_ she thought, falling into step with Elio, _"Everything is dead."_ She tried to speak, but could only stammer, "I-I'm sorry, We didn't think-" 

Elio waved his hand, "Cyber, I have my family, my relatives, my friends, and my neighbors. We are all alive thanks to your warning. We shall have to move, but we are alive, and so there is hope. It is-" 

But he was interrupted when a furious man came out of a hut they were passing, saw her, and yelled, "WHAT HAPPENED? Even the crops are dying! What were you doing in that damned place that caused this?" 

"No!" Cybersix whispered, shocked, "It wasn't us! It was-" 

"Ramas-" Elio said warningly. 

"BAH! You've been corrupted with all the years you served that madman!" he turned to Cybersix and screamed "GO AWAY! LEAVE! You've caused us enough trouble!" 

Cybersix glanced at Elio, who pursed his lips and moved his head slightly, "I-I'm heading back to the compound." she said, ignoring his implicit permission for her to stay, "I-I must-" She turned and sprinted into the jungle as Ramas yelled curses at her. 

"Ramas! She's lost her family too!" Elio said sharply. 

"I certainly hope so!" Ramas spat out, turning to re-enter his hut.   
------------------   
Cybersix paused at a small creek, bent down, and was about to take a drink when she saw the cold sliver eyes of several dead fish staring up at her from the water. Reminding herself that YX gas deteriorates totally in 6 hours, she steeled herself, swept the carcasses aside, swirled the water, and brought some up to her lips in her cupped hand. 

She had been travelling for a half hour, conserving her strength while trying to cope with the sights on the way. Corpses of snakes, monkeys and brightly colored parrots littered the forest floor. The flowers were starting to drop their pedals. Ant mounds that normally teemed with life when kicked had been transformed into heaps of motionless dirt. 

_"Death, death everywhere."_

She leaped across the stream in a bound and continued on, wondering how she was going to take it when she actually arrived home.   
------------------   
The Techno quarters were the easternmost, so she came to them first. The wild hope that some might have escaped arose when she noticed the empty beds when she peeked in through the windows. That soon gave way to shock when she saw a bed with clothes sticking out from under the covers. She went numb when she went into that room, pulled the covers back, and found a pair of pajamas lying next to a nightgown, both lit from within by a cylindrical green glow... 

The absence of Technos was strangely disturbing: Ever since she had tumbled out of tank 6, she had been cared for by Technos. Certainly, her parents were ultimately responsible for them, but the day-to-day care of the Cybers and other newborns were entrusted to members of the first 1500 Technos. Where was Techno 387, who first dried her off and dressed her? 188, who taught her how to bathe, dress, and feed herself? 419, 536, and 1118, who were the medics and kissed their scratches and patched them up? What of 881, who taught them literature, encouraged her interest in books, lent her many of his copies, and came up with wild excuses to cover her absences after lights out, when in reality they had been shooting the bull far into the night, debating the inner meanings and symbology of the Great Works? 

At first, she left the vials alone, but then reason asserted itself: She knew the theory for making sustenance, and could reproduce the blueprints for the machinery required from memory, but she didn't have the time to put everything together and tinker with it until it worked. These vials were life. As the images of the dead rose in her mind, she just knew they would want her to have them. They had cared for her, taught her, and, yes, loved her. They had always tried to provide for her during their life, and she knew it would give their souls peace, if souls they had, to know that they would continue to sustain her even after their deaths. 

She knew where 881 was, and went straight to his room. She weaved a bit uncertainly around the cartons of books piled in his room: Everything started to get a bit blurry. 

She pulled the covers aside, lifted the tee shirt, and picked up the vial that fell on the bed. She looked at it, eyes welling. 

She flicked the cap open. 

She began to sob as she lifted it to her lips. 

"I love you!" she murmured, tears streaming down her cheeks as the liquid flowed into her, his life joining with hers in the most intimate way possible.   
------------------   
She stayed in 881's room only for a few minutes, her memories her only companions. There was work to be done. Even though all the insects were dead, the bodies of Normals might start to rot from internal bacterial action. The Compound, and all within, were dedicated to making sure that atrocities like this never occurred. It was unthinkable for this place, sacred at least to her, to be defiled by the stench of the dead Normals that the residents had been created and raised to protect and defend. The high sustenance concentrations in the bodies of the Cybers not only prevented them from vanishing like a Techno's, but would also kill any bacteria that dared to enter them. They could wait. As always, the welfare of Normals, alive or dead, took precedence. 

Besides, she wasn't quite ready to go to the Cyber barracks. Not yet. 

She went to the motor pool, got a back hoe, and drove it to the grounds in front of the gardens and the Main Residence. In 15 minutes, she had a long, deep trench dug. That was the easy part. 

Now came the hard part: Going to the residences, finding the bodies, and bringing them here. She didn't want to use a truck: Stacking them like cordwood would look too much like the photos from the concentration camps that had given them their first nightmares. Father himself had come in to discuss that gruesome period of time and emphasize the seriousness of the subject. His solemn charge at the end of the lecture was seared into their hearts and minds forever: "You will bring me shame if you discover this happening again, but you do nothing! Do not, I repeat, DO NOT LET THIS HAPPEN AGAIN!" 

She knew where every Normal in the Compound was. Everyone did. The natives (Amazonian indians that had intermarried with escaped black slaves) loved working here because the pay was good, and Von Richter's children respected and obeyed them. Cybersix went after them first. As she found each one, she would wrap them in their bed spreads and carry them to the mass grave. She made sure that the couples were laid together, including the ones she found in the same bed when, she suspected, they should have been in separate rooms. 

One of the two redeeming virtues of YX gas ("If a nerve gas could be said to have virtues," the instructor had said drolly), was that it was very unstable and totally broke down in the atmosphere to harmless levels in six hours, leaving no residues to harm anyone who entered the area afterwards. The second was that it killed quickly by attacking the nervous system in a way that caused no convulsions, leaving the victims with some small measure of dignity. There were no messes, thank goodness, so she didn't have to clean the bodies or change their clothes. 

Then came the research aides and co-workers. She didn't know them that well, but their faces were familiar from the many times they all ate together or were pressed into service to perform mass medical exams. She laid them in the grave next to the native workers, leaving a gap next to Marryn, her father's oldest and most trusted co-worker. 

Cybersix sighed when the aides were done, and the Instructors were next: The training. drills. and classes had been so rigorous, and the instructors so verbally abusive where necessary, that every Cyber, at some time in the past year, had muttered something about wishing the instructors were dead so they could dance on their graves. 

She wished it was yesterday, with her in the infirmary and the instructors circling her bed and cussing her out. At least, everyone would be alive. 

She wished it even more when she pulled the covers off of Colonel Dansk's bed and found a glowing vial right next to his dead body. She stood there stupidly, looking and yet not believing: The cussing, cigar chomping, "dammit take charge!", always in motion Colonel Dansk had a Techno as a lover? She had no idea who it was, but there was only one thing to do that would have met the approval of the head of the Instructor corps: She buried him in the grave with the vial clasped in his hands. She would consider the implications of that pairing later, when she could think again.   
------------------   
_"So still. So horribly still!"_ Cybersix thought as she walked through the eerie slience of corridor 4 of Barracks 1. Stopping at the door to the fourth common bunk room, she swallowed hard, opened the door, and went inside. Counting the bunks starting from the left, she went to the eighth bunk, wrapped the coarse green sheets around the still body of Cyber 338, and lifted her into her arms. She walked through the jungle path separating the Cyber Barracks from the rest of the compound, hearing nothing but the scuff of her boots on the dirt. 

She laid her sister next to the woman who had saved her life when she had been born, and had come to love her like a daughter.   
------------------   
Cybersix stood barefoot at the bottom of the Main Residnece staircase, looking up and dreading this moment. 

But it had to be done. Slowly, she mounted the steps, turned left, and walked to the door leading into the master bedroom. 

She gazed at the plain panelling for a long moment, then forced the door open and went inside. 

Her parents lay in their beds, as if asleep. She walked around to mama's side, bent down, and tenderly began planting kisses on the cheeks that would never again feel the touch of her daugher's lips, nor the wetness of her tears as they fell from her eyes. 

After a few long minutes, Cybersix gently pulled the covers aside and lifted the light, frail body out. She exercised the privilege of the living and chose the dress that she put on her. Holding her mother in her arms, she slowly walked downstairs, out the front door, and down into the mass grave, laying her in the gap she had left in the middle of the line of bodies. 

Her father, Dr. Von Richter, probably would have scorned the kisses on the cheeks, so she settled for kissing the hands that had manipulated the DNA that wound up living in her own body, silently swearing never again to complain about her onyx black eyes or the unruly, thick strands of black hair that fell over her right eye. She dressed him up in his favorite dinner jacket and riding suit, took him outside, and laid him next to his wife. 

She knelt in the dirt at their feet, looking up and down the line. 

What to say? To help them fit in, they had been taught the fundamentals of the major religions in the regions they had chosen to specialize in, and had practiced debating their merits as if they were one of the faithful. All those religions had some kind of ritual to perform over the dead before burial. Which one to do? What to say? 

Silence. Silence all around her. 

Slowly, she began to recite: 

"In Flanders fields the poppies blow   
Between the crosses, row on row,   
That mark our place; and in the sky   
The larks, still bravely singing, fly   
Scarce heard amid the guns below. 

"We are the Dead. Short days ago   
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,   
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie   
In Flanders fields. 

"May whoever you worshipped," she said, "receive you in peace. 

"I love you all. 

"Goodbye." 

Slowly, she got up, climbed out, pulled her boots on, got onto the back hoe, and pushed the dirt back into the grave, taking care not to drive over it. She then drove it back to the motor pool. Once there, she turned the motor off, put her head down on the steering wheel, and cried. 

She didn't know how long she stayed on the back hoe, or how long she cried. Eventually, she stopped, all cried out, and listened to the silence. 

After what seemed like an eternity, her ears pricked up. 

There was a noise. Something distant and far away. 

But something. 

She leaped off the back hoe, ran out the garage, and jumped onto roof. From there, she sprinted to the tall tree growing next to it. In a few seconds, she was as close to the top as she dared, scanning the horizon. 

Off to the east, she saw them. Two helicopters. 

Military helicopters. Flying low, in formation, and heading toward her. 

Toward the Compound. 

Toward her home. 

She estimated she had ten minutes. Maybe fifteen if they had sense and were cautious. 

She thought for about two minutes, then leaped down to the ground and sprinted around back to the small concrete bunker far behind the motor pool. She yanked the lock off, pulling the hardware out of the wood, and went inside. Coming out moments later with a satchel slung over her shoulder, she closed the door, then ran back and ducked into the garage. 

_"Take up our quarrel with the foe:_   
_To you from failing hands we throw_   
_The torch; be yours to hold it high."_

She came out and started leaping toward the firing range. Toward the weapons locker located there. 

_"If ye break faith with us who die_   
_We shall not sleep, though poppies grow_   
_In Flanders fields."_

------------------   
"In Flanders Fields" By John McCrae 


	3. Chapter 3

The two military helicopers stayed in formation and flew low, barely skimming the topmost branches of the tallest jungle trees. The MH-60 Pavehawk flew point, with the CH-47 Chinook right behind it. The windows of the troop transport were crowded with the helmeted and camoflage-daubed faces of soldiers looking out over the jungle. They looked tense, as if uncertain of what they were flying into. 

Neither the choppers nor the men bore any kind of insignia indicating from where they came. 

"Up there." the civilian sitting in the co-pilot's seat pointed at the buildings that jutted out of the sea of green, "That's the target." 

"Get ready, you dogs!" their sergeant yelled, not at all happy to have a civilian as the commanding officer. 

"YES SARGE!" the eight men yelled, shifting positions so as to be ready to dash out the doors. 

Sarge leaned forward, "Ready to tell us the mission now, Baines?" he asked his CO. 

Baines glared back at him, "In due time, Sarge. Just make sure nobody is around to take potshots at us!" 

"Hah!" a soldier muttered, "Not after a snootfull of YX!" 

"QUIET BACK THERE!" Baines yelled, "That's classified! One peep, and you'll be busting rocks at Leavenworth!" 

"They don't bust rocks at Leavenworth any more." came the reply. 

"A change in policy CAN be arrainged." Baines said mildly. 

The soldier looked a bit perturbed, but said nothing in reply. Sarge mentally ticked off another item on his list of possible employers of Baines. He didn't like the entry beside which the tick marks were piling up. 

In fact, there were a lot of things about this mission that he didn't like. Baines as commanding officer was one. Them flying over a foreign country under radio silence except for the very low power radios was another. The lack of insignia was another, since meant they'd be treated as spies if caught. The lack of a co-pilot or crew chief on this bird bothered him, as well as the single pilot and two civilians flying in the Chinook. 

His biggest dislike was just being there: If this was such an important mission, why pick a Non-com like himself and a squad of average Joes? 

"Let's split up and circle around," Baines spoke to the pilot and the Chinook with his radio, "if we get any small arms fire of any kind, we go there-" he pointed to a clearing 500 yards away from the nearest building, "Set down, and dig in for fifteen minutes. Then we leave. Look for anything suspicious." 

"Roger!" 

They separated and circled around. Sarge nodded, leaning out of the door, "Large barracks, firing range, classrooms, and training courses. Four to five thousand troops, with, oh, maybe one to two thousand support staff." 

Baines grunted and nodded with satisfaction, "I don't see any activity. Do you?" he asked 

"No." "Not here." "Nothing." "Poor guys. Those courses look like hell!" 

The radio squawked, "Uh oh!!" 

"WHAT?" Baines yelled, "What do you see?" 

"It's Travis. Come around to the mansion and hang over what looks like a parade ground." 

The Pavehawk wheeled around and headed for the Chinook that floated over the mansion. 

"In front of the mansion." Travis said. 

"DAMN!" Baines cursed. 

"Don't set down there, sir!" a soldier said, "The chopper will kick up dust and cover any tracks!" 

Baines glared at the soldier, then at Sarge. 

"He's Porter, the best tracker in the division. Do what he says if you want hard information really badly." 

Baines looked like he had bitten a persimmon, "Okay, set down over there, in front of that building."   
------------------   
"THAT is wierd!" A soldier commented after glancing into the building. 

"What Rogers?" Sarge asked him. 

"It's a mess hall. A huge one. Built to hold a huge number of people at a time. Maybe four, five thousand." 

Sarge frowned. It was more efficient and cheaper to hold rotating messes and make many smaller mess halls, "Um hmmm." he murmured noncommittally, not liking the mystery at all. He'd been in jungles before, and he liked the unnerving silence even less. 

The civilians, Baines, Travis, and Connors, the civilians, were standing near the helicopters. The soldiers were in a defensive formation surrounding the helicopters. The engines were a few notches above idle, so the blades were still turning, creating a cooling breeze that was welcome in the hot, humid climate. Another, more important virtue, was that they would be able to get the hell out quicker if necessary. 

Porter had gone in ahead toward the dug up area they had seen from the air. He walked around, looking, sometimes hunching down and looking closely at the ground. After fifteen minutes, he got up and came back to the civilians. Sarge joined them, 

"So what's the skinny?" he asked Porter. 

"It looks like a mass grave, sir. He used a ditch digger to dig the hole and fill it in after he put the bodies in it." 

"He?" Baines asked, "There was only one?" 

"Yes sir. Only one." 

Baines swore while Travis asked "Are you SURE it's just only one person?" 

"Absolutely sir. Must be exhausted too, sir." 

"Why?" 

"He carried each of the bodies, since some of the footprint impressions are deeper. At least thirty. No recent sign of any other vehicles, and the ditch digger came in and went out on the same road." Porter pulled out the mission map and pointed, "See? this road goes to this building marked 'motor pool'." 

Baines had gone pale and was looking all around him nervously. Sarge suppressed the temptation to yell "BOO!" and see him piss in his pants: Some momentary pleasures were not worth fouling up one's prospects for promotion to experience. 

"It's just only one, Ted," Connors said reasonably, "Nine against one? Great odds." 

"YOU don't KNOW the WHOLE story!" Baines said shakily, "I want five to stay here and four to fan out and look around. We're not budging or touching ANYTHING until this place is secure!" 

_"Coward,"_ Sarge thought disgustedly as he turned and yelled out four names and issued the orders. 

"Not by pairs! One by one!" Baines countermanded Sarge's orders for them to pair up. 

"But-" 

"We don't want to lose two men at once! And set those M16s on burst!" Baines added, sweating from more than the heat and humidity, "I don't care what they told you in basic training! If you see something worth shooting, aim at the chest and empty that clip completely!"   
------------------   
Private Jeff Weller looked around himself cautiously as he walked away from the relative safety of the landing area. And with a bit of nervousness: the orders to go singly and to shoot in burst mode until empty meant that that Baines guy (CIA maybe, MI probably not, black ops definitely) was scared shitless of whoever he, Jeff Weller, was being sent to meet. Heart thumping, he stopped to set up his M16 and put a couple of extra clips into an easy-to-reach pocket: At 900 rounds a minute, a 30 bullet clip would last only a few seconds... 

He stopped, glanced at the map he pulled out, and decided to head toward the concrete block building in the distance. He went along the path for a while, then stopped, _"I'm a strolling duck here. Maybe-"_

He turned off the path and went into the jungle foliage. He got to where he thought he was halfway to the next path, which led off to those large barracks they'd seen from the air, and then turned and walked as quietly and carefully as he could, stopping often to assess the area. He felt naked: the total and complete absence of animals would make ANY animal-like noise stand out as prominently as a bull horn at a college football game. He privately decided to take as much time as he needed and let Baines worry about his own ulcers. 

After about 40 minutes of very slow and careful sneaking, during which Jeff was absolutely sure that the pounding in his heart and head was audible for miles around, he thought he spied something unusual. Crouching, he carefully approached, pulled out his opera-glass-sized binoculars, and looked. 

Someone with black hair was hunkered down about 30 yards ahead of him. Jeff shifted his position to get a wider view and gulped at the relatively old, but very huge and effective machine gun behind which the person was kneeling, _"That would take three men to haul!"_ he thought nervously, noting that the position was not fortified, telling him that the location of this particular defense had not been planned ahead of time. He glanced off to the right and paled, thankful that his instincts, and Baines's warnings, had served him well: Whoever it was had a clear line of sight down that road leading to that concrete building, while being concealed in the foliage. That meant a clear, and withering, line of fire also. 

This guy knew what he was doing. He was placed along the road to the most interesting building in the place. He probably would have let him go by, waiting for the main group, and Baines, to come so he would get them all at once. 

Thankful also that he had been ready to fire, he decided it would be prudent to follow Baines's orders and try for a chest shot: the bare neck and shoulders told Jeff that the person wasn't wearning any armor, but just a shirt. He carefully and quietly circled around, double and triple checking where he put his feet so as not to make a sound. 

_"Perfect!"_ he thought, estimating less than 25 yards to the target. Barrel shoot, even without a scope. 

He lifted his rifle to his cheek and slowly went through the steps drilled into his skull by his shooting instructors, not wanting to rely on instinct. 

_"Exhale. Hold breath. Sight. Squeeze S-L-O-W-L-Y."_

The moment it fired, he started pumping the trigger, seeing the arms flail briefly in the air before his target fell to the ground. 

Hastily, he yanked the clip out and shoved a fresh one in. He rose up from his crouch and approached cautiously, holding his breath, rifle at the ready. 

He exhaled, almost collapsing as his legs wobbled from the wave of relief that crashed over him. The guy was sprawled over the machine gun, with maybe 10 to 12 bullet holes in him. He pulled out the small, short range hand radio he had been issued and toggled the button. 

"Yes?" Sarge's voice squawked out tinnily, "Status!" 

"Weller, Sir. I got him. He had a big-ass machine gun trained on the road leading to that concrete building. The one on the map with the question marks. Unfortified position, but well concealed. You wouldn't have seen him from the road until it was too late." 

He heard Baines talking excitedly to Sarge, "Baines says to bring the body back. Good work!" 

"Yes sir!" Jeff said spiritedly. 

He put the radio away, slung his rifle over his shoulder, bent down, flipped the body over, and gasped, "JEEEZUS!!!"   
------------------   
Baines was elated as he saw Jeff returning, the slim body slung over his shoulders. The others had returned, and they were all gathered around the body bag that had been pulled out and opened, curious to see what or who had terrified Baines. 

Grim faced, Jeff knelt down and very gently laid the body down, face up. The men around him gasped and muttered under their breaths as it flopped limply onto the bag. 

"A teenager, sir. She couldn't be more than sixteen, seventeen." Jeff said, _"Like my sister."_ he thought. He felt sick, the memories of his sister applying makeup and excitedly getting ready for a date flooding his mind. 

"Hah! The Nazis defended Berlin with kids younger than her!" Baines said, "Didn't you empty the clip into her?" he demanded, frowning. 

"I tried sir. It was 25 yards, and the body flew out of my sight." Jeff said, wondering if the vision of those white arms flailing would ever leave his memory, "You also didn't tell us about the hollow points." 

"What??" Sarge gasped while the men looked at each other nervously, Hollow points were banned by the Geneva convention. 

Baines rolled the body over with his foot, noted the bullet wounds in the girl's back, then rolled it back. Frowning, he got down, grabbed at the thin material of the camo undershirt, and tore it open. Jeff and almost all the soldiers politely averted their eyes when he grabbed at the green, strapless bandeau bra and pulled it down to the girl's waist. Sarge frowned and mentally put a demerit beside Private Kyle Haldane's name when he noticed the look on the man's face as he watched Baines do this. 

"What is it, Ted?" Connors asked, frowning. 

"You see any exit wounds?" he asked, pressing his fingers all over the girl's chest and sides. 

"No." Connors replied, a bit peturbed at his boss's behavior. 

Baines rolled the body over again and started feeling at the bloody back,"How many do you see in the back?" he asked after a few minutes of poking and pushing. 

Connors counted, "About 11." 

The men hastily scooted out of the way when Baines stood up, pulled out his 9 MM Berretta, cocked it, aimed the gun straight at the girl's head, and fired. 

They came back, staring dumbfounded. The head was INTACT. Travis, who had been standing off to the side and listening, quickly came over and stared also, "But- but-" he stammered. 

Baines quietly flicked the safety on his gun and put it away. He bent down, probed through the girl's hair, and lifted out a flattened slug. "See what you guys were up against?" Baines said, holding it up so everyone could see it, "This ain't yer average kid sister, guys. Do you think the only thing this-this creature has is a skull tougher than plate armor? Probably thought I was a pervert, huh? Well look again, guys! See these? Eleven bullets hit, but only three went between the ribs to tear its insides up! The rest were stopped by the ribs! I was feeling for broken ribs, but didn't find any!" he glared around at them, "So what ELSE do you think it was capable of?" he pointed at the mansion, "I don't know about you, but I'd rather READ about it than see it in action, coming right at me! Now... ARE YOU GOING TO PAY ATTENTION???" 

"YES SIR!" They all shouted. 

"Good! Unload half the drums from the Chinook and fuel the choppers up. Also take the big crates out and set them under that tree. When that's done, I want you, Sarge, to pick four men, take both choppers, and check out that campfire we saw while coming in here. My guess is that the campfire will give us some clues as to the range of YX. If there are people alive in the middle of a dead jungle, I want to talk to them. Here. All of them. Some of them may have worked here, so I'll want to question them too." 

"What about the others?" Sarge asked, worried about idle hands. 

"I want two to do a count of bodies in the barracks and outlying buildings. I hope I can find a list, so we can determine if any like that-" he jerked his head at the body on the ground, "-were away when the bombers came. I want the other two to check out the firing range. We think their armory is there. I want an idea of how much firepower they could have thrown at us if we didn't use YX. Send your demolition expert, for I want it blown up after you have a good idea." 

"Aww right!" one soldier said, grinning, "Fireworks!" 

Baines turned, "Porter!" 

"Yes sir?" 

Baines smiled pleasantly, "Knowing now the type of, umm, person we WOULD have been up against, are you really, POSITIVELY sure there was only one person here?" 

Porter slung his rifle off and stood it up against the side of the mansion's porch, "Absolutely sir." he said, undoing his gun belt, "The boot size matches what I saw, and there were no others. Nobody here to worry about. Not even the wild animals." he added, punctuating his sentence by dropping his gunbelt next to his rifle. 

Baines grinned, "Good to work with a man who knows his stuff." he complimented Porter. He turned to his companions, "Connors, break out the radio equipment, set it up, and use a mobile headset." 

As he mounted the steps, Baines congratulated himself on being able to contain his surprise and act as if he had expected a teenager with a bulletproof skeleton all along, _"Johnson NEVER suspected THAT!"_ he thought shakily, _"Damn, what the hell ELSE did Von Richter enable them to do?"_

While his men scurried to unload the Chinook, Sarge went over to the girl and looked at her for a long moment. He then got down, rolled her onto her back, pulled the bra back up to where it belonged, and moved the shreds of the ripped shirt to cover her chest. He shifted her limbs around so he could get her into the body bag. 

_"Poor kid,"_ he though as he zipped the bag over her pretty face, _"Looks like she was so tired from burying whoever is here, she nodded off waiting for us and let Weller get the drop on her. Oh well, better her than one of my men."_   



	4. Chapter 4

The whine of helicopter blades spinning up made Baines rise from the large desk and go out onto the balcony. Sarge and four of his men were piling into the Pavehawk while the others were coiling up the hoses they had used to manually pump gas from the barrels into the tanks. The Chinook was already lifting off. 

"Hey Dan!" he called to Connors, who was waiting for the men to finish with the hoses. 

He turned and ran to a spot under the balcony, "What's up?" he yelled. 

"Any news?" 

Connors shook his head, "I started getting something, but the choppers were starting and got too loud!" he replied, tapping at the wireless headset he was wearing. 

"Get those guys going on their tasks, then come on up!" 

"Right!" 

Baines watched as the choppers lifted off, pivoted, and shot off toward the thin column of smoke they had seen while coming in. He then returned to the pile of papers he had pulled out of one of Von Richter's six filing cabinets.   
------------------------   
"Well, let's get this over with!" Private Kyle Haldane said to Private Jeff Weller as they walked into the barracks area, "Where do you think we should start?" 

"Let's try that one. Building Seven." Jeff pointed. 

Haldane nodded. He went to the door, pushed it open, and went inside to a large lobby. Two sets of stairs were on either side of the room, and three hallways radiated out from it. He picked one hallway and went down to the first door to the right, opened it, and went inside, 

Jeff followed him in and gasped when he saw the small bodies in the cots, still covered with thin green blankets. Haldane was yanking the blankets off onto the center of the floor, "Ten cots." he grunted, not sounding pleased, "Ten bodies accounted for." 

Jeff looked down at the dark haired child in the cot to the left. _"So young!"_ he thought guiltily. The child's face looked peaceful, even happy, as if he or she had died while having a pleasant dream. 

"You gonna keep track?" 

Haldane's rough voice startled Jeff, "Umm, yeah." he said, pulling out the pen and notebook that the guy named Connors had given him. On the first page, he wrote "Building 7", and a "10" under it. 

He wanted to look at the expressions on the other faces, but Haldane was already leaving the room and going to the next one.   
------------------------   
"Now THIS is gonna be fun!" Private Rod Martingale said, grinning, as he shifted the backpack full of high explosives, "I hope they've got a LOT of shit to blow up!!" 

"Well, don't blow it up until we've counted it!" his companion, Private Ben Shriver retorted cheerfully as they entered the firing range, "You know, the more shit they've got to blow up, the more shit we have to dodge when it comes down!" 

"Yeah!" Martingale nodded, "as if we don't dodge enough shit already!" He glanced at the targets and flinched, "Do you see what I see?" 

"Holeee-" Shriver gasped, "That must be at least 75 meters!" 

"Not just that! Those are BB gun targets!" 

"Hey, you think that Baines guy was scared of getting his hide shot full of BBs?" Shriver tried lamely. 

But Martingale was already trotting across the field. Shriver sighed and followed him to the targets. When he had caught up, Martingale was looking at the target, "Yep, BB-gun targets. Bullseye no bigger than your eyeball. What were they expecting from these guys??" 

"Maybe this might tell us?" Shriver noticed a trash barrel next to the targets. There was something funny about it that he couldn't place. However, paper targets filled it three quarters full, and it was these that had attracted his attention. 

"Good idea! If they're anything like us, they'd keep the best for the records and toss the losers. Hey! Are you okay?" 

Shriver was NOT okay as he pulled one target after another out of the barrel, and saw the same thing, "Holy Mother of God will you LOOK at these?" he croaked. 

Martingale paled too, "Those look like holes from standard AK ammo!" 

Shriver rummaged through the barrel, "I don't see anything with a hole outside of the second ring! Jeezus Rod! Their rejects were the ones who put two bullets into the second ring! I don't see a target with a scatter bigger than a quarter!" 

"Let's, uhhh, get on with our job, okay?" Martingale said shakliy, turning around. 

Shriver was dropping the targets he had been holding into the barrel when he realized why the barrel looked so queer. 

It didn't have any bulletholes. Unlike the trash barrels at THEIR firing range. 

Shaking as badly as his companion, Shriver followed, silently but fervently thanking the unnamed person who had decided to drop VX gas on people who didn't even shoot wild when they were rank beginners....   
------------------------   
_"I'm not sure I'm going to like this job."_ Sarge thought as he glanced over the small village as the Chinook buzzed it, "Let's try landing over there!" he pointed. 

The pilot nodded and the machine leaned into that direction. 

"Get ready ya dogs!" Sarge yelled, privately deciding to disobey orders and leave the women and children behind, _"Not enough room in the Chinook anyhow."_ he rationalized.   
------------------------   
"Getting something!" Connors said, sitting up stiffly and putting his hand over the earphone of his mobile headset to listen better. 

Baines stopped looking through the sheaf of ammunition requisitions and concentrated on Connors. 

"General info broadcast." Connors said, eyes focussed distantly, "Most targets found and eliminated. Glow tubes confiscated. Many more problems than anticipated accounting for highly prominent individuals-" 

Baines nodded. The outside infiltrators, called "Technos", were certainly highly skilled and intelligent, and tended to work their way into very visible and sensitive positions. 

"Uh oh." 

"What?" 

"Heavy resistance and some casualties in Meridiana. Not sure how long they can hold out while faking being the local police. Reinforcements being rushed to them." 

"DAMMIT!" Baines gritted his teeth, "I TOLD them Trodden would be a problem if he wasn't eliminated separately!" 

"That's it." Connors shook his head, "Other than the situation in Meridiana, everything's going like clockwork." 

"I dunno." Baines sighed, slapping the pile of papers on the desk in front of him, "WE'RE not getting anywhere!"   
-----------------------   
"WOOOWHEE!" Martingale exulted the moment the lights came on in the bunker-like armory. Ammunition and explosives lay stacked around them neatly in tall, orderly piles, as far as they could see, "Whew! This could stock a division for weeks!" 

"Yeah! Umm, where are the weapons?" Shriver asked, glancing around. 

"You're right. I don't see an-Hey! There's a staircase over there." he pointed. 

They went to the staircase that led down to a second level, even more spacious than the first, also filled with ammunition and barrels of chemicals, "Hmm, looks like they mixed and made their own ammo." Shriver observed, noticing the rows of benches with various tools used in hand-assembling ammuntion along one wall. 

"Makes sense. Probably had a lot of idle hands and that would save money. Hey! There's another set of stairs!" Martingale indicated. He went to it and pushed the sealed button to light up the next floor, "Ah! The weapons are all down there!" 

"Finally!" 

"Whew! These guys knew what they were doing!" 

"Why?" 

"The put the stuff that goes boom on top of the weapons. If it was the other way, an explosion would have thrown the stuff into the air. As it is, an explosion would just drive the junk into the ground. With all the stuff they've got on the first two floors, we'll just be dodging pebbles!" 

Both men ran down the stairs.   
----------------------   
"OKAY! Lets get them loaded in!" Sarge said, waving the group of 22 natives toward the waiting Chinook. 

"I ask you again, what do you want with us?" One of them asked him. 

"Mr. Elio, my boss just wants to ask you some questions. You'll be fine. And your families are not in danger from any wild animals." 

"I know." Elio nodded, "Thanks to you and your planes." 

Sarge did not feel very good about being a member of his nation's armed forces at that moment.   
----------------------   
"ALL RIGHT!" Haldane grinned, "Shoulda came here FIRST!" 

"Okay, so how would we know they numbered all the buildings in birth order?" Jeff said, "Hey! Ten cots, but that one's missing a body." 

"That's the gal you croaked, buddy." Haldane was pulling the blankets off the cots. 

"Kyle, you just have to check for a head on a-" 

"YESSS!" Haldane kicked the blankets into a pile, then tipped the cot with the girl so that the body fell onto the pile. 

"What the hell-" Jeff gasped as Haldane got down and began to rip the shirt off the girl, "SHE'S DEAD, you pervert!" 

"Ahh, go check the other rooms if ya don't wanna watch!" 

"I'll do that," Jeff muttered, leaving the room, _"Sick bastard,"_ he thought.   
----------------------   
"Got anything yet?" Baines sighed, leaning back in the thick padded chair behind the large desk. 

"Nah." Connors said, "Boy, Von Richter was a fanatic on their diet. Worried about it all the time." 

"Here's something!" Travis came in, waving a clipboard, "E-mail message from the head instructor, Dansk. Found it on the nightstand in the master bedroom." 

"DANSK??" Baines paled, "Colonel Friedrich Dansk?" 

Travis glanced at the clipboard, "Yeah. Who was he?" 

"Oh, just the best damn trainer of soldiers the Fourth Reich ever had. Youngest of the Old Guard, so never really got into being a Nazi. He was in charge of several training camps." 

"Was he any good?" 

"We did an analysis a while back. He trained about 20% of the German soldiers in the first three years of the Reich during their buildup phase, but they accounted for 43% of all the kills in combat. We traced the last of his boys to Stalingrad, where they accounted for 35% of the Russian casualties." 

Connors whistled, "What happened to him?" 

"Too outspoken. Eventually vanished without a trace. So, the legendary 'Drill Instructor OF Hell' ended up here," Baines shook his head and glanced at the clipboard. 

"Look at the last page first." Travis advised. 

Baines read it, "Uh oh! They were picking the first members of their officer and training corps! Getting ready to transition to self-sufficiency," He read carefully, "Now, the one they call Seven looks good with a half dozen wins. The next best only had two." 

"Better keep reading." Travis advised again. 

"Hmm. Von Richter: What about Six? I heard from Seven at the dinner table that she was in the finals in almost all the categories", Baines flipped the page, "Dansk: Herr Doktor, Yes, Six is exceptional, failing only to complete the 80 kilometer run when she collapsed from lack of sustenance. Von Richter: So, why isn't she on the list? Dansk: Herr Doktor, she would be in first place if we awarded points for position, but we did not, and it is not advisable to change the rules after the games are played. Besides, she endangered her life by failing to watch her sustenance levels. Her presence alone in command scenarios doubles morale among her subordinates, almost cancelling out Seven's superior tactical skills. Being so popular, her death on the field would have devastated everyone. I do not advise that such reckless disregard of her health and influence be rewarded. Von Richter: We'll award points for position from now on. In the meantime, I want her in. What do you advise?" 

"He never replied. Look at the dates." Travis said. 

"Yesterday. We got them just in time." Baines said, feeling relieved. 

"What's that 'sustenance' he was talking about?" Connors asked, frowning. 

"Hmm," Baines wheeled around to look at the filing cabinets, "Let's skip to the 'S's, shall we?" 

All three men went to the third filing cabinet. 

A huge explosion suddenly shook the house. All the glass in the windows shattered into thousands of fragments and flew into the room, All three ran to the window as secondary explosions continued to shake the building, glass crunching under their boots. Looking out, they saw an immense column of smoke boiling into the sky. Flames shot so high, they were visible above the tree tops. 

"Whew! I hope those guys got far enough away from THAT!" Travis said. 

"Ahhh!" Baines waved a hand, "Two less loose ends to worry about!"   
--------------------------   
"WOW! Do you see that Sarge?" 

"Yeah, I do, soldier!" Sarge replied, "Keep your eyes on the prisoners!" 

"Boy, I hope Rod and Ben got far enough away before that went up!" Another one commented. 

"Martingale knows what he's doing." Sarge replied wisely, "Hell, the guy's probably having an orgasm right about now."   
--------------------------   
Jeff was glad he was in the hall when the explosion blew all the windows out of the rooms. He continued up the third hall on the first floor, counting ten bodies in each room, _"Done here,"_ he thought, making his way back to the lobby "I saw the choppers coming back, Kyle!" He yelled, "Ya owe me two mess duties now, or I'm squealing, ya pervert!" 

No answer, _"Probably still occupied. I ought to report him,"_ Jeff thought irritably, glancing into the room and noting that the blankets were back on the cots, along with the body of the girl he was violating, _"Hmm. Smart. Covering his sick ass by putting the body back in the cot. Probably counting the rest of the bodies upstairs and looking for one closer to his taste."_ he thought, "HEY KYLE! I'M DONE DOWN HERE! YOU DONE?" he yelled back toward the lobby, hoping he wouldn't have to look for him: Despite being a soldier, walking through a building full of dead bodies gave one the creeps. 

He heard footsteps out in the lobby, so he picked up his pace and trotted toward the sounds.   
--------------------------   
"We're warm!" Baines said excitedly, scanning the notes, "Those glow tubes contain what he called sustenance. A high energy liquid that seems to interact with their muscular systems." 

"From the name, and from Dansk's e-mail, I would figure it was necessary to keep them alive." Connors was looking at a separate sheaf of papers, "Sustenance was what Trodden's company was shipping out to everyone, which is how we got our list in the first place." 

"Was this the only place they were getting it from?" Baines asked. 

"Looks like it." Connors said, "The equipment looks a bit involved." 

"Then we're in the clear." Baines said, satisfied, "Even if we didn't get everyone, they'll die from lack of it if given enough time. Even those hotshot Cybers they were raving about." 

"Hmm. Do you think sustenance was what he used in Oaken Fist?" Travis asked. 

"Maybe. That author, Greta Von Groven, didn't know much about the project itself." 

"Well, what she did know got us here. So, do you think anyone else knows how to-" Connors started, then jerked his head at the approaching beat of chopper blades. 

"Finally!" Baines got up, "Things may get a bit sticky. Got the Haskins?" 

Travis nodded and went to the long cylindrical case he had brought upstairs. Baines jerked his head to Connors and left the room. 

"You think these guys know anything?" Connors asked Baines as they went down the staircase. 

Baines grinned and nodded, "You'd be surprised at how much a house servant really knows. Especially all the dirty laundry." 

They walked out of the house and watched as the soldiers supervised the unloading of the natives from the Chinook, Baines took out his Beretta and put in a fresh clip, "Yes! Now we'll get some answers!"   



	5. Chapter 5

"Where are the women and children, Sergeant Grove?" Baines said sharply, frowning at the group of natives that were being herded out of the Chinook. 

"Too many of them, sir." Sarge replied cooly. 

Baines glared at him for a moment, but only saw a soldierly, stoical expression, "Who looks like the chief?" 

"Didn't have one. However, that one in the red shirt is Elio. Everyone seems to defer to him." 

Baines walked to group, who stood about sullenly, regarding him warily, "You're Elio?" 

"Yes. I am Elio." 

"I want to ask you a few questions. Did you work here?" 

Elio looked at him silently. 

Baines put his hand on his Beretta, "I asked you a question! Did you work here?" 

Elio's eyes narrowed. 

Connors stepped up and delivered a savage punch to Elio's stomach. He groaned and bent over, holding his belly as he dropped to his knees. His companions looked at each other and murmured. 

"Wait a-" Sarge protested, stepping forward. 

"Quiet, Soldier!" Baines snapped, "I'm in charge, and this is a national security issue!" 

"Security, yeah, but whose?" a soldier muttered under his breath. 

"Let me handle this." Sarge whispered as he stepped back. 

"Wha-?" Connors muttered. 

"What?" Baines returned his attention to the native, only to be seeing him grinning and chuckling, "What are you laughing at?" 

When Elio did not reply, Baines nodded at Connors, who kicked Elio in the side. Elio fell on his unhurt side, groaning, but soon began chuckling again, albeit a bit raggedly. 

Sarge took the opportunity to quickly survey the men he had there who were armed. Two, from his original platoon, looked like they would be on his side, but the other two, who had been transferred in for this job, seemed to be taking pleasure in the beating of the old, unarmed black man. Of the four who were away, he felt he couldn't count on Haldane, another transferee. But he felt very sure of the others, also from his platoon. The odds were about even since Baines and Connors were armed. He glanced around for Travis, but didn't see him. If he was lucky, the civilian wouldn't be a player. 

Baines was frowning, "Sarge, were there any animals in that village?" 

"What?" 

"No sir!" a soldier replied, "There were only people." 

"Hmm. The gas killed all the animals, people, and whatever else was here, and it was night, so how-" Baines suddenly brightened, then chuckled, "You were warned, weren't you?" 

Elio nodded, "You in-big trouble,-boss man," he gasped. 

"Oh Really?" Baines grinned, turned to Connors, and jerked his head toward the mass grave, "Show him." 

Connors, realizing also, grinned too as he went to the body bag and dragged it to the small group. He unzipped the bag, grabbed the dead Cyber girl's hair, and twisted her head so Elio and the natives could see her face, "Was it THIS one?" he asked. 

There were several gasps from the men, "Oh no!" said one. Elio, for his part, stopped laughing, but got on his hands and knees to crawl to the bag for a closer look. 

"YOU!" Connors pointed at the one who had spoken, letting go of the head, which fell with a thump to the ground, "What's your name?" 

"Ramas sir!" 

"This the one?" 

"Yes sir!" 

The others groaned and glared at him. 

"Finally! The smart man in a bunch of blockheads! Did you work here?" 

"No sir, but Elio was the head servant!" Ramas pointed at Elio. 

"Ahh! The man who knows the dirty laundry!" Baines chuckled, "Do you know what they were doing here?" 

"I'll answer that." Elio said, struggling to his feet. Sarge had been watching Elio. The man's face had run a strange gamut of emotions, but finally ending with a grim, set look of determination, "We were building the Army of Peace." he said, looking squarely at Baines. 

"Army of-" Baines started, disbelieving, then burst out laughing, "Come ON! Army, yes, but Von Richter was a scientist working for the Nazis, and your Cybers were being trained by the best instructor of the Reich! Army of peace!" 

"Yes." Elio said calmly. 

"And-" Baines still chuckled, "WHAT was this army supposed to do? Or conquer?" 

"They were to be sown among the armies of the world. To be common soldiers and noncommissioned officers, like you-" Here Elio turned to Sarge and his men, "They would work and live among you, supporting you and being your friends. They would have fought your enemies alongside you. But they would have been watching." 

"Watching? who?" Sarge asked. 

"You." Elio said, "To make sure you would not be doing what you are doing now, violating the treaties of war and peace. Then they would try to stop you. With their words, if they could, or with their bodies if words failed." 

Baines shook his head. He pointed to a soldier, "You. Your dossier says your parents run a construction company, right?" 

"Yes sir!" 

"Go get that ditch digger at the motor pool and bring it here. They have to have one " 

Sarge's lips pursed: one man on his side gone. _"Where are the others, and when the hell are they going to get here?"_   
----------------------   
"Kyle! Let's get going!" Jeff said as he walked into the lobby, "We've got four more-" 

"They'll just have to wait, soldier." 

Jeff whirled at the sound of the girl's voice and found himself staring into the very long barrel of what looked like a modified Magnum stolen from the "Dirty Harry in Wonderland" movie set. His eye followed the slim arm holding it up to the owner's face, and was extremely startled to see that the girl looked very much like the girl he had shot, "W-w-where did you come from?" he croaked. 

"Here. This is my home you bastards are raiding. I was up on the mountain when your planes gassed my parents, brothers, and sisters." 

"How many-" 

"Just me." she said, voice breaking slightly, "Your tracker, Porter, is very good. As you were when you sneaked up on my batchmate, Cyber 356. Of course, she was already dead, so it wasn't that much of a challenge," The girl smiled slightly, "I didn't know daddy gave us such substantial skulls, although with 356, one always wondered..." 

Jeff glanced behind the girl to another corridor. "Oh, looking for your friend? Right there, under the desk," she said, voice going cold again, "I didn't appreciate what he was doing to my sister, Cyber 3. Rape is forbidden by the Geneva convention, as are hollow point bullets." 

Jeff looked down and noticed, with a start, the unnatural angle of Haldane's head and neck, "Umm, what's your name, err, number?" he asked her. 

"I'm Cybersix. Turn around, soldier, I'm going to tie you up." 

"Look, I didn't know I had hollow points!" 

"I know. TURN AROUND!" 

"But how did you know-" 

Cybersix tapped at her left ear, "Good ears. Now turn around or I'll do it for you!" 

Jeff had been delaying, looking the girl over. _"Slight and small boned,"_ he thought, _"She's probably tired of holding that big gun. Maybe-"_ Sighing, he turned around, waited until he heard the gun being put on the desk behind them, then leaped backwards, hoping to knock her to the floor by his larger weight and bulk. He felt the front of her body against his back and heard her boots as she stumbled. 

Then he felt one hand grab at his belt, the other on his shirt. He gasped as he felt himself being quickly lifted and thrown end over end! He slammed into the wall with his back, hung there for a second, then slid down to the floor, jarring his whole skeleton when he hit. 

BLAM! BLAM! 

Very slowly, Jeff reached up to his head and felt at the crumbly stuff that had fallen on his head. He looked at it, and saw that it was chalky. He reached back up, felt at the wall, and found a hole bigger than his fist blown through the mortar board. He decided that the multiple stings he had felt in his buttocks was from the same stuff flying away from a similar hole that was made by a similar bullet that hit the same wall about a couple of inches below his crotch... 

The girl was on the desk, on one knee, holding the gun and slowly lifting and lowering the barrel, as if trying to decide which end of him to shoot next. 

Slowly, Jeff raised his hands. 

"On. The. Floor. Soldier." Cybersix stated, obvously not willing to entertain any more foolishness from him. 

He stretched out on the floor and put his hands behind his back. Within seconds, his hands and feet were bound with several turns of duct tape. She then picked him up by the belt and carried him like a piece of luggage out the door, "Let's see," She was muttering, "That's three down, one captured." 

"T-t-three?" Jeff gasped, trying to keep his nose out of the dirt as it went by. 

"Yes. While those two guys were counting the weapons on the third level, I snuck into the top level and initiated the self destruct. Went off when I wanted it to, so I very much doubt-" She stopped. 

From far away came the roar of a ditch digger's engine. 

Jeff felt her jerk at his belt, and he flew upwards, spinning and flipping. She caught him on the stomach as he came down, and draped him over her shoulder. His head was down, and he was looking at the back of her boots and the handle of the big gun tucked under her belt. He dipped toward the ground as she crouched, then it flew away as she leaped over several trees. 

Jeff's eyes bugged, as much from trying to keep his lunch down as from the dizzying view, _"We are-"_ he thought, watching the branches fly toward them, _"-in DEEP SHIT!"_   
----------------------   
"You want me to do what, sir?" 

Baines sighed, "Start digging another trench. Next to this one. NOW!" 

"Uhh, yes sir!" 

Sarge wasn't sure what Baines was doing. They had been "interrogating" Elio, who refused to answer any more questions, but had stopped when the sound of the ditch digger indicated its arrival. The soldier skillfully excavated the trench while Baines and Connors made the natives watch. 

Baines grabbed Ramas by the arm and jerked him toward the edge of the trench. He then pulled out his Beretta and pointed it at Ramas' head, "If you think I'm kidding or joking, old man, then you are WRONG!" he said to Elio, who was lying on the ground, "Want a demonstration?" 

"BELAY THAT!" Sarge said, bringing his M-16 up and pointed it at Baines, "THAT'S GOING TOO FAR!" 

"What Sergeant Grove? All that native's blathering about the Geneva Convention get to you? Lemmie tell you this, the Geneva Convention is enforced by the winners, not the losers! Isn't that right, Travis?" 

"YES SIR!" Came Travis' voice from above and behind Sarge. He turned around, and saw Travis on the balcony, holding a Haskins gun. He turned back, and saw that Baines and Connors had their guns aimed at him. 

"Recognize the Haskins, Sergeant? Nasty. Can cut a man in half with one round. You don't stand a chance. Who's prepared to follow the chain of command?" he addressed the soldiers. 

Porter, Sarge's remaining armed man, put his M-16 down, letting one of the other soldiers confiscate it. Sarge handed his gun to the other, saying, "You won't get away with this at my courts martial, Baines." 

"What courts martial, Sergeant? Get over here." 

"WHAT?" 

"Summary execution for defying orders in the field, attempting to countermand the orders of a superior, and treason for supporting a suspected enemy of your country. Come here, or I will shoot you there." 

"Don't bother, sir." The soldier who had taken his M-16 shoved Sarge toward the trench, "I don't want to drag his carcass anywhere anyhow." 

"Thanks patriot," Baines said appreciatively, "Now, Elio, to show you how serious I am, I'm going to shoot my own countryman. No great loss, since he's a traitor anyhow."   



	6. Chapter 6

Sarge glanced down at the bottom of the trench, sensing Baines stepping up to him on his left. He waited for the touch of the muzzle of Baines' gun against his left temple.   
------------------   
Jeff shivered at the look on the girl's face as she pointed her gun with her right hand, holding up a box in the left. 

She flipped the switch on the box with her thumb.   
------------------   
The ditch digger blew up, sending the rider flying, along with huge billows of smoke and fire. The gasoline caught fire and exploded also. The natives hit the ground, as did Porter. 

There was a loud gunshot and a clatter. Sarge turned around to see Travis slumping off the balcony railing, the top of his head blown away. The Haskins gun had fallen out of his hands and was on the ground. 

The two remaining armed soldiers, Connors, and Baines were wheeling around, looking wildly for the attacker. 

At the sound of another loud gunshot, seemingly from a different direction, Sarge prudently dove into the trench, Ramas joining him. He poked his head up, noted that one of 'his' men was on the ground, and caught sight of the other fly backwards as a gaping red hole appeared on his chest. Connors and Baines began firing wildly. 

"Missed!" a girl's voice taunted from the distance. The men fired at the voice. 

"Missed again!" This time from a slightly different direction. They fired more shots. 

"Missed again!" 

The two got off three more shots between them when their Berettas began to click. 

"DROP THEM, SIRS!" 

Porter! He had snuck over to the Haskins gun, retrieved it, and was pointing it at Connors and Baines, "Let's get them!" Sarge told Ramas. The man looked scared, but followed Sarge out of the trench to take the empty guns from Baines and Connors. The other natives got up and secured the two, while Sarge threw the Berettas into the trench, "Porter! Put the Haskins down!" 

"The pilots, Sergeant Grove!" The girl shouted. 

The two pilots came out of their choppers, hands up, for the Haskins' incendiary rounds would have pierced the hulls easily. The natives took their weapons and secured them too. Sarge took the Haskins, held it over his head briefly, then tossed it into the trench, "We surrender!" he shouted. 

There was silence for a moment, then a native shouted, "There!" 

Baines groaned as the girl covered 120 meters in three bounds, carrying a prisoner over her shoulder. She landed on their side of the trench and put Jeff down on the ground, "Smart move, Sergeant." she said, "I regret having to take out five of your men." 

"What?" Connors gasped. 

"Yes. Two here," She indicated the bodies of the two soldiers lying on the ground, "The two at the armory when I activated the self-destruct, and one who was violating my sister's dead body." 

"B-but there was supposed to only be one!" Baines gasped, shooting a glance at Porter. 

"Yes. Me." 

"But the body-" he glanced at the body bag. 

"My batchmate, 356, already dead, but posed to make you think you got me." She said, turning and going to the bag. She knelt down, straightened the hair of her sister, bent down, kissed her cheek, then zipped the bag up. 

"And you are-" Sarge asked. 

"Cybersix." She said, standing up and returning to the group. She held her hand out to Sarge, "I'd like to shake the hand of a brave and conscientious soldier, sir." 

Sarge blinked, "But-" 

"Please?" 

Suddenly, it struck Sarge, "It's true," he breathed, taking her hand in his, "The army of peace and the Geneva Convention. All of it?" 

She nodded, "Yes. Since we came out of our tanks, we were trained to-" 

Elio groaned. Cybersix whirled around and ran to his side, "Elio! Are you okay?" She began to feel at his abdomen, "Can you breathe?" 

"Not-well." Elio moaned, "Getting dizzy." 

She bit her lip, "Internal bleeding, I think. I'm sorry. Everyone is gone, and I don't know what to do!" 

"It's okay. Saw everything. Your parents-and instructors-would have-been proud." He grabbed at Cybersix's arm, "Six. I-must-" 

"No! Take it easy!" 

"Must tell-you. Those-men were-in your father's-office. Must-be looking-for something." 

"I figured that out. That's why I didn't shoot them. I'll make them talk!" 

"No. Don't. Be like them." 

"But I must find out why they killed my family!" 

"Tape-Recorder." 

"What?" 

"Tape recorder-in office-to catch-pranks." 

Comprehension dawned on her face. Despite the seriousness of the situation, she almost laughed, "Thanks Elio! I'll listen to it." She glanced up at Baines, "It may have some-STOP HIM!" 

Baines had been reaching into his pocket and had pulled out a small box. Caught, he hastily flipped a switch hood up and flicked a switch on it as the natives next to him grabbed at it. 

An explosion ripped through the engine compartment of the Pavehawk. The rotors tilted until the blades touched the ground, ripping deep gouges in the ground. 

"Let's see that!" Sarge grabbed the box. 

"THE OTHER SWITCH, SARGE! THAT'S AN ORDER!" Baines shouted. 

"DON'T!" Cybersix yelled. 

Sarge looked at Baines, then at Cybersix, then shook his head, "I'll listen to the REAL soldier, no thank you." he told Baines. 

Baines swore and cursed him, not stopping until a native conscientiously recycled the duct tape he had removed from Jeff by applying it to his mouth. 

Sarge carefully inspected the box as Cybersix walked up to him, eyes bright, "What is it?" she asked. 

"Radio control trigger switch. Same thing I think you used to create the diversion with the ditch digger." 

She nodded, "Actually, I was going to blow up the digger if they tried to excavate the family grave. Do you think the other switch is for the Chinook?" 

Sarge glanced at her, noting that she had correctly identified the chopper, "No. One switch has a graphic for a chopper. The other has a mushroom inscribed on it." 

"Why would a bomb be put on the Pavehawk?" she wondered aloud. 

Sarge Suddenly scowled, whirled around, and faced Connors, "YOU BASTARDS! After you got all you wanted out of this place, you were going to kill us on the way back!" 

Connors was stunned, "National security-" he started, only to have his sentence punctuated by Sarge's fist flying into his face. The man dropped. 

Meanwhile, Cybersix had turned and went to the collection of crates that had been unloaded from the chopper. 

"Wait!" Ported yelled, "Let me get a crow-" 

He stopped when he saw her tear the top of the first crate off with her bare hands, multiple one inch nails screaming in protest. She glanced inside, then went to another. 

"-bar." Porter finished, impressed. He ran over to the crate and glanced inside. It contained communications equipment activated remotely. The other crates held cartons of rations. 

"Here." She said, looking into one longish crate. 

Porter looked into it, "What is it?" he wondered. It looked like a partially disassembled tank shell, with wires coming out of the tip and going to some electronics gear. 

Cybersix pointed at a magenta star printed onto the side of the casing, "This is a battlefield tactical nuclear munition, soldier. I was never taught the designation, because my superiors would wonder how an average joe would happen to know a classified acronym if I had an accidental slip of the tounge." 

Porter glanced at her appreciatively, "You were going to be a soldier, like me?" 

She smiled, "Yes. Like you." 

Sarge had trotted up and had looked into the crate. He recognized it immediately and cursed, "If they had encountered resistance, they were going to set down for 10 minutes. Probably to set this thing up and blow you to atoms after we got far enough away." 

Cybersix thought for a long moment, "Something is strange here. A nuclear weapon outside of the chain of control of the President of the United States?" She glanced down at the little cousin of the most fearsome weapon on earth, "Here. To destroy my home. Why? What is so important here? Its obvious that man was willing to die to keep a secret. What is it?" 

"Miss, if he was willing to die to keep it, you won't get anything out of him." Porter said as they returned to the group. 

"You're right. I'll have to listen to the tape." she said, "In the meantime, I want these two tied to separate poles! Use duct tape. Lots of it." the natives nodded, grinning, "I want all the visitors and half of the servants to break into the mess hall and load up the Chinook with all the food it can carry. Leave room for the entire village and ourselves. I want two of you watching Elio! Put him in the master bedroom. Two of you go to the Techno dorms and gather as many vials as you can. The rest of you-" she looked at the bodies lying on the ground, "Bury these in that trench. I'll be in my father's office." 

"Ahh, Miss Cybersix?" Sarge asked. 

"Yes, Sergeant Grove?" 

"Requesting permission to take my men back with me. I can't leave any behind." 

"I'm sorry, Sergeant Grove, I wasn't thinking. We-" she smiled, "-never expected to come back here to be buried. Permission granted." 

"Thank you. I think you should keep this," he said, handing her the box. 

She took it, flipped the main hood down over it, and put it in her pocket, "Anything else, Sergeant?" 

"Yes. Can I ask you a question?" 

"Sure. I may not answer it, though," she said, smiling. 

"Why such a large mess hall?" 

She started and looked at him with a puzzled expression on her face, as if the question was totally unexpected, "We were a family," she said in a small, bewildered voice, "We WANTED to eat together."   
-------------------------   
"Miss?" Sarge poked his head into the large office. 

"Yes?" she lifted her head, and Sarge realized that she looked as if she had been crying. A clipboard with an e-mail printout was in her lap, and there were water stains on the paper. 

"We're done loading the Chinook and buried Travis. Ready to go at your orders." 

"Thank you, Sergeant Grove." 

"Any clues?" 

"Yes. A name. Greta Von Groven." she looked troubled, "And a Nazi science experiment. Oaken Fist. Conducted by my father." 

"It appears, then that they were here looking for something about that experiment, and gassed everyone so they wouldn't be disturbed," Sarge said. 

"The-Nazi experiments were gruesome violations of human rights." she murmured, "I need to know what my father did. Really did. He told his side of the story. Even made jokes about it. And my mother always said he told the truth. If there is another side, and Ms. Von Groven knows it, then I must hear it, for he never mentioned the words 'Oaken Fist'. I must know if my father was lying to us and to my mother, or whether he was telling the truth." 

"What do you think?" Sarge asked her. 

She thought for a long moment, "I think he told the truth. Just not all of it. I want to know what he did. EVERYTHING." 

"I hope you find what you are looking for, Miss." 

"Thank you, Sarge. I'm almost done he-" 

There was a pounding of feet outside the office, and a native burst into the room, "Cybersix!" 

"What?" she asked, standing up. 

"Elio!" 

She beat both of them to the master bedroom, "ELIO!" she cried, "You'll be fine! Just hold on! We'll be taking you to-" 

"No-" Elio gasped, "I'm not-making it. Bury me-here. In the-family grave. With your-parents, max, -and Maria. She-" he smiled, "was a saint. I will-ride to heaven-on her-coattails." 

"Just hang on! Please!" 

But he sighed and was gone.   
--------------------------   
"Here it is, Miss." Jeff said, standing up, "We put the bomb outside of this building, like you wanted." 

"Thanks soldier." she said, looking up at the concrete walls of the place where she was born, "Go on back. I'll be with you in a few minutes." 

Jeff and Porter climbed into the truck and drove back to the parade ground. Cybersix sighed, opened the door to Tank Building One, and went inside. 

The lights were not on in the building, even though the emergency generators had kicked in and were still running. They would run for weeks, considering how precious the Von Richters regarded the tiny bodies growing in the 500 glass tanks that stood in rows at various levels of the building. There was no need for lights at the moment, for the green glow from the tanks illuminated everything. 

She walked up to tank 6, put her hand on it, and gazed through the green liquid at Cyber 3506, barely grown to the size of a two year old, floating serene and unaware of his sister standing outside. His hands twitched, grasping at nothing. 

"Oh God.." she moaned, leaning her head against the glass and crying, "oh God forgive me..." 

The gas attack had not touched the young ones growing in the tanks, who were fed from bottled oxygen. However, the attack had destroyed the hands that would have lovingly taken care of them. With all her heart, Cybersix wanted to take care of them. All of them. But she had only two hands, while the Von Richters had taken years to build up the support staff that were now just vials clinking in large bags sitting in the Chinook. Besides, 500 Cybers were a lot of mouths to feed, and the report that Cybersix heard Connors relay to Baines told her that the necessary support network was quickly vanishing too. 

Her tears ran down the side of the glass tube. 

"I am sorry... I am so sorry..." 

Soon, she would be the last Cyber. And soon, the last Von Richter. 

She felt so alone. Even now. 

"Goodbye. Forgive me..." 

She turned and walked out, sobbing.   
-----------------------------   
"Let's go!" The pilot of the Chinook yelled. 

Cybersix climbed in, looked for a spot, then saw Baines and Connors, still trussed up, lying against a bulkhead. 

Scowling, she made her way through to them, grabbed Baines, and tossed him out the door. Connors followed. 

"Miss?" The pilot said. 

"Wait just a minute." She said. 

"Miss Cybersix! The Geneva Convention-" Sarge started. 

"Covers the murder of civilians." she said, holding her hand out. 

Sarge shut up and handed her his Beretta, knowing she was right. 

She hopped out, walked over to Connors, bent down, and jerked the duct tape off his mouth, "YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" he yelled, "THE GENEVA CONVENTION-" 

"-Is enforced by the winners." Cybersix said sourly, "In contravention of the articles of war regarding civilians, you are guilty of murder. The sentence is death." 

His scream was silenced by the bullet she put into his forehead. 

She walked over to Baines and jerked the duct tape off his mouth too, "BITCH! You can't win! We'll hunt you down!" he yelled, "We'll get you! We'll dissect you, figure out what makes you tick, and then you'll die screaming as we figure out how much you can take!" 

"So that's why!" she murmured, nodding, "Thanks." 

Baines's eyes bugged, realizing he had said too much. 

"In contravention of the articles of war regarding civilians, you are guilty of murder. The sentence is death." 

She pointed the Beretta at him, and he started screaming too. 

The muzzle shook a bit. 

"Ahh, you don't deserve this." she said, finally, lowering it. 

Baines stopped screaming, looking hopefully at her. 

"You know too much. You probably planned it, didn't you?" she asked. 

"Some of it." he admitted, "You kill me, you won't know the whole story!" 

"So, in addition to killing Elio, you helped kill my parents." 

"You kill me, you won't know the whole story." Baines repeated. 

"True, I won't." she said, tossing the Beretta aside. 

She then pulled out her Magnum from behind her back, "But I know enough." she said, checking the chambers, "Go to hell, you bastard." 

She walked around him, blowing off his extremities. She calmly reloaded to the sound of his howls of pain, then continued, finishing by blowing his skull off his neck. His head skittered on the ground before her last bullet made it expode like an overripe watermelon. 

She reloaded her gun, scraped her boots on the dirt to get the bits of blood and flesh off, then climbed into the Chinook.   
-----------------------   
"How far are we now?" Cybersix yelled at the pilot. 

"About 60 kilometers, Miss!" 

"Go high!" 

He applied the gas and the Chinook rose. Cybersix looked out the window and finally thought she saw the bluff from where she had witnessed the death of her family, "This should be enough." she said, pulling out the box. 

"Think the signal will reach?" Sarge asked. 

Cybersix smiled, "I dunno. Let's find out, shall we?" 

"The flash shouldn't be bad at all from here." the pilot said, "Especially from a munition designed for the battlefield. We could be a lot closer and still be okay." 

"The nuclear warhead isn't what I'm worried about." She said, lifting the switch hood. 

"So what ARE you worried about?" Sarge asked. 

"The green stuff in those six gunny sacks." she replied, flipping the switch. 

There was a tiny pinprick of light on the ground that flared briefly, only to be swallowed up by a bright yellow flash and a hot looking fireball that was easily 10 times bigger. They watched as trees flew up before the shockwave that raced toward them. The Chinook pilot turned the chopper and gunned the engines, trying to ride along with the wave to lessen the impact. It still shook the chopper up badly, but no damage was done other than a few skinned shins from some unprepared children. Jeff broke out the medical kit and passed bandages out. 

Cybersix leaned back in the copilot's padded seat and closed her eyes, trying to compose herself and get some rest before the trial before her. 

_"Hold on, 53!" _she thought, _"Just hold on a little longer. I'm coming!"_   



	7. Chapter 7

"You mean you haven't made any progress YET?" 

Rod Jakes could tell that his boss was VERY peeved, "Sir, like I said, they were ready for us! We cut the power to the mansion, hoping it would take out the security system, but they had two backup generators in the basement. Trodden and most of his employees may have been freaks, but they were very well prepared freaks." 

The sigh was audible enough to come over the radio, "I've sent the special forces squad that you requested. This is taking too long, and there may be problems at the Alpha site." 

"Problems?" 

"Yes. It seems to have disappeared, along with 30 square miles of the Amazon Jungle with it." 

"30-Sir, are you SURE? That's far too big for what the Alpha team carried with them." 

"Oh, we're sure all right." 

"Well, Baines is a good man. He'll be on top of everything." 

"I know. Half the time, I wonder if it was wise making them go in under radio si-" 

There were two extremely loud gunshots outside. Loud enough for Jakes's boss to hear them, "WHAT WAS THAT??" he demanded. 

"I'm checking on-" Jakes yelled, rising, only to stumble backwards when the encryping radio gear emitted a large shower of sparks. He turned, ran to the door, opened it, and leaned out, "WHAT HAPPENED?" 

"DON'T MOVE, SIR!" one of his men, dressed as a Meridiana Police SWAT member, yelled and waved frantically at him, "A power line is on the antenna! You may get fried if you try to step off!" 

Jakes groaned: He would have to call the power company to kill the power to the line and get it off the portable communications trailer. The last thing he wanted was any civilians present! Too many of his men were occupied trying to keep the press away from the siege of the Trodden mansion, which was being advertised as a hostage situation. "I'll call the power company!" he said. 

"Sir, the telephone line may be hot too!" 

Oh, right. "Well, get Hodgins to pho-" 

Gunshots from the sniper nest in the evacuated apartment building opposite of the mansion drew Jakes's attention. He caught sight of the sniper hastily pulling back from leaning out of the window. THAT was unusual! His eyes went to the wall, and bugged when he saw someone in camo clothing running along the top of the wall at an inhuman speed, shooting a gun at the sniper nest to take the heat off of themselves,"STOP HIM YOU IDIOTS!" he shouted, pointing. 

The figure turned and LEAPED 10 YARDS to the nearest tree inside the gardens. The others, having seen the leap, froze and didn't move, momentarily stunned. 

"SHOOT INTO THE TREE! STOP HIM!" 

His men scrambled to get their weapons, having been drawn away from their posts due to the excitement caused by the power line landing on the trailer. However, the moment they climbed onto the makeshift platforms set behind the long wall surrounding the mansion, they came under fire from the house as everyone inside opened up. Whoever it was, he were being well covered as he leaped from tree to tree toward the mansion. 

"OKAY! STOP!" Jakes yelled, highly irritated when he saw a small figure leap from the tree closest to the mansion and crash through a second story window, "Back to your positions! I don't know who went inside, but I don't want them coming out!" 

Out of habit, he turned to report this bit of news to his boss, only to be reminded of the condition of his radio equipment from the pungent odor of burnt electronics filling the trailer. There WAS a backup, but he'd have to wait until the power line was removed before he felt it would be safe to turn it on. Sighing, he sat down and ran over the possiblities of who the intruder was.   
--------------------------   
"DON'T SHOOT!" Cyprus Trodden, Techno 53, yelled to his men as they ran ahead of him to the guest bedroom, "DON'T SHOOT! BACK AWAY FROM THE DOOR!" 

The technos immediately obeyed, but the two human bodyguards stopped and looked at Cyprus quizzically. 

"DO IT! NOW!" he shouted. 

They looked at each other and backed away from the door. Cyprus approached it, "This is Techno 53! We saw you coming in and covered for you!" 

"I appreciate that, even if the shooting was lousy!" came a young, female voice from within the room. 

"Sir-" a human guard started. 

"Its okay, Mike," Cyprus waved, backing away from the door, "She's on our side." 

The door opened, and the men blinked at the slight, unimpressive looking teenage girl dressed in camoflage who stepped into the hall, "Sorry to be, ahh, dropping in like this, 53." 

"Quite all right, Cyber-" he paused. 

"Six. I'm Cybersix." She glanced at the men, "Shouldn't you guys be back at your posts watching the enemy?" 

"We've rigged the security system to buzz when an attack is being launched," Cyprus explained, "And they don't try during broad daylight." 

"Things were pretty quiet until you arrived." a techno said, grinning, "I saw your last jump. Impressive!" 

"Thanks." 

"What news do you bring from Father?" the other techno asked. 

Cybersix looked grim, "I need to talk to everyone." 

"The front hall," Cyprus said, "That's the rally point between sorties."   
--------------------------------   
Cybersix looked at the group of 26 technos and four Normals. The technos were expectant, while the humans had looks of amusement mixed with skepticism. 

"As you can probably tell from her grand entrance," Cyprus said, "This is one of our Cyber sisters, Cybersix. She's come from the compound, and wants to talk to us. Six." he nodded to her, giving her the floor. 

"I-I-" she stammered, wondering how to break the news. She decided to be direct, "I'm sorry to report that the compound, our home, is now gone." 

There were audible gasps and dismayed looks, "What do you mean, gone?" one asked. 

"Gone. No more. Four planes from an unidentified nation dropped cannisters of YX gas on the compound night before last. I was the only one away from the compound at the time. Everyone else is dead." 

"Everyone?" a male techno asked, almost in shock, "Father? Mama? The other technos?" 

"Almost everyone," Cybersix said, almost shedding a tear of sympathy at the tone of the poor techno's voice, "Only the eighth batch of Cybers and I were left." 

"About when?" a female techno asked amid the sobs that arose from around her. 

"About eleven in the evening." 

"That matches," she said, "Our people started getting hit in their apartments at midnight, and since the compound is one time zone west of us, that indicates that this was a coordinated attack. But I'm interrupting. Please go on." 

"No," Cyprus said, visibly shaken, "Let's tell her what happened to us first. You tell them, 418." 

"Okay," The techno said, "I was at my apartment, cleaning up after a dinner party, when I got a phone call from Hannah, the shipping supervisor. She's really agitated. She had been talking with 323 on the phone when she overheard someone breaking 323's door down. She hears gun fire. Lots of it. Then she hears someone say, 'Grab the glow tube and let's go to the next target.' Then someone else says, 'Wait! It was talking to someone!'" 

"'You've got to get to the mansion!' Hannah says, 'I'm calling up as many as I can to warn them! Get going!' Then she hangs up." 418 sighed and shook her head, "Hannah is normally as cool and calm as they come, but she was scared. VERY scared." 

Cybersix's attention went to another female techno, who had suddenly started crying much harder, "What is it, sister?" she asked, starting to walk around the group to her, only to have a Normal guard stop her. 

"Don't," he jerked his head toward the window she was about to pass to get to the grieving techno, "Sniper. We've lost four already." 

Cybersix's eyebrows went up, "Thanks. What is it, sister?" she asked again gently. 

"I-I worked for H-H-Hannah on the s-s-shipping dock!" the techno stammered, wiping at her face, obvously trying to get herself under control again, "'S-she called me to warn me too! Only-" here, she began to sob again. 

Cybersix dropped to her hands and knees, crawled under the window to her, and put her arms around her, "Only what, sister?" she whispered, arms around the shaking techno. 

"T-t-they broke her door down while she was talking to me!" she cried, "I heard gunfire, and-and I h-heard her scream, and-and-" 

Cybersix hugged the weeping techno more tightly, shedding a few tears too for Hannah. 

"I think they got the other Normal employees too," Cyprus said sadly, "As soon as I heard what was happening, I tried calling them, but I couldn't raise any of them. Not even the ones that I knew stayed at home on workday nights. Then the phone lines were cut. Whoever's out there even disabled my cellphone account. I guess I should have tried to call the mayor or a friend, but-" here, he shook his head. 

"We're probably all that's left," a guard said, "And maybe Mouser." 

"Mouser?" Cybersix asked. 

"Our resident computer guru," Cyprus answered, "A high school kid who hacked into our computers, and who I later hired. He stays with friends, and hops from house to house." 

"That's it," Techno 418 finished, "We came here, opened up the little arsenal 53 had, and have been defending the house since, hoping to get word from the Compound. So what happened to you?" 

Cybersix wiped at her cheeks, then told of the burial, the arrival of the soldiers and agents, their capture, and of what she found in the crates and on the tape. 

"Tape?" Cyprus asked, puzzled. 

Cybersix chuckled despite the gravity of the situation, "Father had installed a 24 hour continuous tape recorder in his office, to catch anyone who tried to plant any practical jokes in his office while he was asleep. Poor 1517! His room had set off an exploding watermelon in the office and were promptly caught. They were sure 1517 had squealed on them, and everyone made his life miserable! Nobody knew of the tape until Elio told me about it while he was dying from being beaten by the bastards. What?" she turned to Serena, who had covered her mouth to hide her chuckle. 

"Ohh, Father got onto us for shipping in a watermelon to the culprits," Serena, Techno 54, grinned, "We checked around, and figured out Mouser had given in to temptation and had arranged the delivery. Cyber 1512 proved to be quite the Mata Hari." 

Cybersix's eyebrows went up, but she smiled and nodded, as if she'd just found where to put an irksome piece of a large puzzle, "So, does anybody know anything of Greta Von Groven and Oaken Fist?" Cybersix asked, looking around, "Any clues?" 

Cyprus frowned, "I do believe that one of Father's maternal ancestors was a Von Groven. German, naturally. It is possible that this Greta von Groven is related to Father and may know about this Oaken Fist project. I surely don't." The other technos shook their heads too, unable to help solve the puzzle. 

"By the way, what did you do with the bomb?" A Normal guard suddenly asked. 

"I found out that they had been going through father's files. They had just pulled the files on the cybers and on sustenance when the villagers were brought to the compound. I think they were looking for information on how to grow their own cybers." 

"Honey," the guard said patiently, "I'm asking about a NUKE, here!" 

"I know," Cybersix nodded soberly, "I used it to blow up the compound." 

"YOU WHAT!?!?" Cyprus exploded. The other technos either gasped or added their vocal protests. 

Cybersix raised her hand, and they quieted, albeit definitely simmering, "I did kill the agents for beating Elio, which led to his death. I had to let the soldiers and pilots go, because they surrendered. I had to get rid of the notes, the tank building, the sustenance generators-" 

"And the eighth batchset of Cybers!" A techno interrupted, horrified, "You killed five hundred Cybers. Children! Your own brothers and sisters! They couldn't have been more than 4, 5 years!" 

"I-I know." Cybersix admitted, voice shaking, "But if I did nothing, others would have returned, and in greater numbers. Perhaps they would have gassed the compound again, this time getting me and leaving no one to oppose them. They could have completed the growth process, giving them 500 Cybers ready to be reprogrammed to serve them. Men who were capable of beating a helpless black man to death. What would Father think? Do you want THAT to be his legacy? Do you?" 

The thought of their brothers and sisters possibly being perverted to evil ends was enough to mollify the technos. After all, at the base of their programming was the imperitave to follow reason and logic. However, their programming did not rob them of their feelings. Cybersix's heart fell as she saw the looks of sadness, despair, hopelessness, and loss wash over the faces and bodies of what was, very likeley, all that was left of her family, "Please, don't be discouraged!" she said enouragingly, "If we get out of here, we can survive! I had the natives collected enough vials for us to live on until we can build a sustenance generator. Everyone in Elio's tribe is willing to have us live among-" 

"And what then, sister?" A male techno said bitterly, "Even if you get us out, what then?" 

Cybersix stared blankly at him, "B-but-" she stammered, surprised to hear such talk from an older sibling. 

"You're a fighter, a warrior," the techno waved her objection aside, "You're programmed to bounce back, to keep on going. Good for you. But what do you know of Techno programming?" 

She shook her head, "Only the general-" she started. 

"Yes, yes! The general parameters, yes! Think, Cyber! You get us out and protect us, and you fulfull your programming, but what of ours? You're not a techno, so you wouldn't know what would fulfill ours." 

"So, what IS it?" She asked, shaking her head, honestly confused,"I want to understand." 

"You should be able to. It's you." 

"Me?" she asked, looking around and seeing the other technos slowly nodding in agreement. 

"You. As a Cyber, you are the pinnacle of Father's dreams, for only you could be a member of the Army of Peace. We could never fight. Look at us! You said yourself that we were pathetic shooters. We could never fulfill father's dreams directly, but we could help. We could raise you, feed you, teach you, hand you over to the instructors, support you, cheer you on, obey you in military matters. We lived for the CYBERS! We lived for you, dear sister! Now they are gone. And since father is dead, there will be no others." 

"i-I-" Cybersix stammered, at a loss for words. 

"Yes." Cyprus nodded, his face looking like a house that had collapsed from within, "Our purpose, our reason for living, is now gone, but not yours. You must find out who did this to our parents and punish them. You must find out why they did it. If they did it for Father's technology, past or present, then you must make sure Father's legacy, which now lives on in you, is not betrayed or misused by falling into their hands!" he looked around at the other technos, "Are we technos in agreement on that?" 

They all nodded, then Techno 418 said, "The Normals! We must get them out of here!" 

"What?" the largest one there, a black man with a broken nose, growled belligerently, "Johnny doesn't run out on his friends! Not no time and not-" 

"Johnny, I'm your boss, and you follow my orders!" Cyprus said roughly, "We can't last forever, and they'll certainly kill-" 

At that moment, Cyprus' cellphone beeped. He grabbed at the receiver, "Hello, Trodden here." pause, then "MOUSER! Get the hell off the line! You'll be traced! No, I'm not a hostage! What? Three??" he glanced at the phone as it hummed a dial-tone, then went silent, "Crazy kid." he muttered, putting the phone away, "Get himself killed if he's not careful! Cybersix! Come into my office!"   



	8. Chapter 8

Cybersix followed Cypus obediently, knowing that he had the most command seniority present, and thus qualified to make policy for the family. _"What's left of it,"_ she thought. 

His office doubled as a study and a library, for the walls were lined, floor to ceiling, with shelves of books. A large mahogany desk dominated the center of the room. He went around to the padded chair, sat down, opened some drawers, and started pulling out papers, "Here." he said, scribbling an address down on a sheet of paper, "This is a company warehouse with a safe. Should have about 150000 in it. Here's the combination. Split it equally among the normals and yourself. That should help them get away and hide from these bastards. The quiet blonde one, Vittorio, will know where to get forged passports. Get one yourself. There are crates of sustenance there too." 

Cybersix nodded, glancing at the paper before folding it up and putting it into a pocket. 

Cyprus was scribbling four very long numbers onto another sheet of paper, "These are the account numbers and passcodes to various Swiss bank accounts. You should be able to figure out the banks from the initials. The total is around five million American dollars, which should be enough to..." 

"You've been planning this all along, haven't you?" Cybersix asked suddenly. 

Cyprus looked up at her, hand holding the paper out to her, "We had a few close calls," he said slowly, "We were very, very lucky that the first normals we told were able to vouch for us to the others. Hannah -" he paused for a long moment, "-wasn't the first one, but was our firmest and most persuasive supporter. She had lost family in the concentration camps-" He paused for a long moment, "Come to think of it, about a fourth of our Normals were from her Synagogue and also had lost loved ones in the Holocost. But the reactions of the others-" he shook his head, "Fear can make people do strange things." he finished, bobbing his head toward the door, and by implication, to the small army at the walls of his mansion. 

Cybersix took the paper from him and looked at it, quickly memorizing the numbers, "Anything else?" she asked, putting it away too. 

Cyprus was looking off to the side, frowning, obviously deep in thought. 

"What is it?" She asked, prodding. 

"Mouser. I'm worried about that kid. What did he mean by three?" 

"A code perhaps?" she asked. 

Cyprus suddenly brightened, "Yes! You're right!" he pulled his drawer open again and went through it, pulling papers out and onto the desk, "Here!" he said excitedly, laying a sheet on the desk in front of Cybersix. It had five addresses on it, "The poor boy had a hell of a life. His dad was shot in a bar, and his mom is high on drugs all the time. He crashes with his friends, and left me a list of five of them, in case I needed him after hours. The reference to 'three' must mean the third address!" Cyprus circled it with the pencil, "Could you check on him?" 

"No problem." she replied, taking the sheet, "All I'll need is a city map. But don't you think you should-" 

A loud thump banged against the wall behind her. She and Cyprus rushed out the door to see everyone flat on the floor, "Sniper!" Vittorio called as he crouched next to the window, carefully peeking out the lower corner cautiously. 

"Son of a-" Cybersix scowled, going to the window. Glancing out, she saw that there indeed was a clear line of sight to the window from the sniper nest. She glanced down at Vittorio, "Who's the best shot?" she asked him. 

"I am." he replied. 

"I'll need your gun." she said, reaching behind and pulling out her Magnum. 

"What the HELL is that?" another normal guard croaked. 

"Magnum with custom extended barrel for extra accuracy." she replied. 

Vittorio chuckled: "Magnum" and "Accuracy" didn't usually belong in the same sentence. 

Cybersix glanced at the window on the other side of the main door, "Someone step in front of that window." 

Initially, no one moved. Then Cyprus sighed and walked to it. 

"BOSS!" Johnny cried out. 

Suddenly, Cybersix shoved the muzzle of the magnum through the window and shot three times, the huge report of the gun shaking the walls and making everyone's ears ring.   
---------------   
"HOLY SHIT!" 

"WHAT IS IT?" Jakes yelled. He jerked his head at the clatter of something falling on the sidewalk, and saw the sniper rifle, "Get somebody up there!" 

"I don't believe it!" one of the men gasped, "He'd just fired, and was getting ready to shoot again, when a bullet hit his helment and lifted him off his knees! Looks like another one took his arm off!" 

"Sir!" the agent who had run up to check the sniper leaned out of the window, "He's been hit!"   
---------------   
"Dumbass." Cybersix muttered under her breath.   
---------------   
Jakes heard the loud gunshot behind him, and mentally identified it as a Magnum an instant before he saw the throat of the agent at the window explode in a red shower of blood and flesh.   
---------------   
Cybersix grabbed the AK from Vittorio, pulled the bolt, flipped the action to single shot, flipped the safety off, poked the barrel out the window, and began firing, shifting her aim wildly while doing so. She fired two shots at a time. 

Cyprus grinned, "What do you see, Mike?" 

Mike, a Normal who had been crouching in the corner next to the window, was awestruck, "She--She hit that sniper with that bigass Magnum, it looks like! Took out the guy who leaned out the window too! I don't see any of the helmets those bastards are wearing poking over the wall now!" 

"Real dumbasses," Cybersix muttered, having stopped firing and was scanning instead.   
---------------   
"FORGET THE MEDIA!" Jakes yelled into the headset as he dashed to the platforms set against the Trodden mansion outer wall, "EVERYONE GET TO THE WALL!" 

He scrambled up one platform and flopped down, back against the wall, "What's the status Ennis?" he demanded to a subordinate agent leader. 

"We lost two up there," Ennis nodded toward the now-vacant sniper nest, "-and two down here." At his boss's quizzical look, he continued, "They hadn't fastened their straps." 

"What?" 

"The straps to their helments. Each man was hit twice: the first bullet hit the helmet and knocked it off, leaving his forehead exposed for the second bullet." 

"What the hell?" Jakes frowned, "This morning, they couldn't hit the broad side of a barn!" 

Wordlessly, Ennis took Jakes' cap off his head, put it on a rifle barrel, and lifted it up. There was a gunshot from the mansion the moment it cleared the top of the wall, and the cap went flying, "I'd say that, as of now, they couldn't miss the broad side of a mouse's butt." Ennis observed laconically. 

"The jumper," Jakes said, his face going pale, "The only thing new is the jumper who got inside. I've got to report this!"   
---------------   
"Why, I saw them while they were having target practice, of course," Cyprus said, grinning. The technos present looked fit to bust with pride, while the normals were, quite frankly, awestruck. 

"That's fine shooting there, Miss." Vittorio complimented Cybersix. 

She smiled slightly, still scanning, "You've got this AK very well sighted, sir." she answered, "Only a hair to the right." 

"Bad setscrew," Vittorio replied, even more impressed at the accurate diagnosis of his weapon. 

The pounding of footsteps from the second floor was followed by a techno stopping himself on the bannister. "They're running in from the side streets!" He yelled down. 

The mouths of all four normals dropped open as Cybersix leaped up to the second floor, rushed to a window, broke the glass, shoved the AK through, and started firing. Cheers erupted from the technos on the second floor.   
---------------   
"FOUR men in two minutes?" Jakes's boss demanded, awestruck. 

"Correction! Seven in five!" Jakes yelled, glancing out the window and counting the bodies writhing on the street, "The freaks we've been killing all over the world were just the small fry. They were the support network for whatever the hell got into that mansion, and which is now chewing up our agents!" 

"Damn," Silence for a few moments, "I'm going to try something to buy you time." 

"Make it snappy!" Jakes said, being able to see his men cowering around the corners of the buildings, and definitely not in any position to fire upon the house. One cautiously peeked around a corner, only to jerk his head back when a bullet hit the wall, showering him with rock fragments.   
---------------   
Cyprus Trodden's cell phone beeped. Everyone around him turned to watch as he pulled it out and answered, "Trodden." 

"Hello freak." 

"And a nice day to you too. Who is this?" 

"Johnson. That's all you need to know. Those are my men outside surrounding your mansion." 

"Oh? You mean the men who are getting shot while surrounding my mansion?" 

"Okay, let's cut to the chase. I'll make you a deal." 

"You want to make me a deal." Cyprus said, relaying the message to the others. 

Cybersix stopped shooting. 

"I'll let you all go in exchange for the shooter." 

"Let me get this straight. Everyone in this house can go free if I hand my sister over to you." 

There was a bit of silence as the speaker on the other end of the line processed that bit of information, "That's the deal," he said finally. 

"Nope. Not sweet enough," Cyprus said, hearing an unusual beeping tone from his cell phone. He glanced at it, frowning, and noticed a message running along the bottom of his cellphone LCD. 

"But-" 418 started to protest, but Johnny laid a hand on her shoulder and winked. 

"So, what else do you want?" 

"A total halt to hunting down my human employees." 

"Okay." 

"I'm not done." 

"*sigh* What ELSE do you want?" 

"Information." 

"Hmmmm..." 

"Just a couple of questions. I was born curious." 

There was a chuckle from Cybersix on the second floor at the double meaning of Cyprus' words. 

"I may not be able to answer for obvious reasons." 

"That's fine with me." 

"Okay. Shoot." 

Cyprus grinned, "Are you the person who masterminded this whole operation?" 

"*chuckle* Yes." 

"You are. I see." 

"What's the other question?" 

"Do you have asbestos longjohns?" 

"What? Asbestos longjohns? What kind of question is that?" 

"It's a very logical question, since your next stop is going to be hell, you bastard." 

Cybersix jumped down, as Cyprus cut the connection, "He knew I'd stop shooting so I'd listen in! It was a diversion to let all their men get into position!" she said accusingly, "You should have hung up!" 

Cyprus grinned and held the cellphone out to Cybersix. On the LCD, she read aloud, "Traced SOB to USA. At 4. M." she looked at Cyprus, "Mouser?" 

Cyprus nodded, "Like I said, the poor kid was aimless. No purpose in life. Didn't feel anything was worth living for, except the thrill of the next crack. Turned out our computers became one of his targets. They proved to be worthy adversaries, but he eventually broke in. He rode all the way into the master computers on the compound on our telecomm circuits and found the master e-mail files. After reading them, HE came to me, confessed what he had done, and begged for a chance to become part of something 'worth a damn'. Those were his own words," 

"Poor kid indeed." Serena, Techno 54, spoke up,"His dad is dead and his mom strung out on drugs. We told him he had to pull his grades up and behave. He finished last quarter on the honors list, so Cyprus hired him to maintain our computers. I think," she smiled sadly, "that he found us to be the family he wanted so desperately." 

Cyprus nodded and handed the cell phone to Cybersix, "That's yours now. Vittorio?" 

"Yes boss?" Vittorio came over. 

"What would you do to get five people out of here?" 

He shook his head, "Not without killing everyone out there." he said, "If they decided to all pop up all at once and fire-" 

"They'd lose about two before they got me." Cybersix finished, "Maybe three or four if they couldn't figure out which window I was firing from at first." 

"Well, what if they were shooting at something else?" Cyprus asked. 

"Such as?" 

"Hmmm, a sortie from the mansion?" 

"53!" "BOSS!" 

"They can't have the WHOLE place surrounded! Not enough men! I say we technos charge out the front door, drawing their fire and attention, while you sneak out over the back wall. Would that work?" 

"No!" Vittorio said quickly. 

Cybersix didn't respond immediately. 

"Six?" Techno 53 turned to her, "Will it work?" 

She looked at him, eyes welling, "About 4 in 5, but only if you fight to the last techno." she said truthfully, unable to lie to him. 

"Vittorio?" Cyprus asked him again. 

He was looking at the floor, "I think she's right. I just don't-" 

"Our choice, Vittorio. Or at least mine. Anyone with me?" he called out to the other technos. 

"No..." Cybersix shook her head in disbelief as she saw the remaining technos quietly gathering around 53, hefting their weapons and looking grim, "You'll be slaughtered! No!" 

"We wait here, we'll be dead soon anyhow," a techno said, "The diesels are running low on fuel, which means our security system will be out of action. We know they'll kill the normals. But YOU-" He chambered the shotgun he held, "-you, they want alive." 

"Over our glowing vials!" 418 said fiercely, hefting a sack that Serena had given to her. She stepped up to Cybersix and kissed her cheek gently, "Get the bastard and make us proud, sister." 

Tears streamed down Cybersix's cheeks, and she couldn't make out the faces of her family as each techno came up, kissed her, and bade her farewell before joining the line at the door. 

"Follow-her-orders." Cyprus said to his human employees, "It was a pleasure having you work for me." he added, shaking their hands. Johnny however, just grabbed Cyprus in a huge bearhug, lifting him off his feet 

After being released by Johnny, Cyprus went to the door. Serena stood by it, holding a sack, "What's that, honey?" he asked, looking at the sack. 

Serena grinned, opened the sack, pulled out a makeshift Molotov cocktail, and showed him the label. 

"My Jack Daniells?" Cyprus asked, eyebrows going up. 

"Just giving the damned yankees their overpriced whisky back." 

He grinned and nodded. He glanced back at the group, "Ready? Two fire from each side window to start, then we dash out, spread out, and start moving to the wall. Now!" 

"Damned fools!" Cybersix's voice wavered as she turned and ran up the stairs. Vittorio jerked his head, and the normals charged up the stairs after her. They found her standing beside a window, Magnum drawn. At Vittorio's hand signal, they took up positions on either side of her. 

"You can leave if you want!" She said, glancing at them. 

"Boss' orders. We stick with you." Johnny said, wiping at his cheeks. 

"LET'S GO!" Techno 53's voice came from downstairs. 

"Oh crap. Wait on my mark, then start picking them off!" Cybersix said.   
---------------   
"SIR! THEY'RE COMING OUT!" 

"WHAT!?!" Jakes paled and glanced at the reporters crouching behind abandoned cars. Their cover would be blown if- 

Gunshots sounded from within the grounds of the mansion.   
---------------   
Serena and the young techno from the shipping dock, number 2672, ran from shrub to tree to bush, "Where are we headed?" 2672 hissed 

"Right up to the wall, under their noses!" Serena replied.   
---------------   
"Hold your fire!" Jakes yelled, "But shoot if they try to rush the gate!"   
---------------   
"They're not shooting," Robert, the fourth of Cyprus' guards muttered. 

"Why should they?" Vittorio said laconically, They've got a nice, safe wall to hide behind." 

"Not for long." Johnny said, grinning, "The ladies, they be ready to do some cookin!" 

"Johnny-" Mike said, rolling his eyes, "THAT was in bad taste!"   
---------------   
Techno 54 made it to the wall, 2672 right behind her, "So wh-" she started. 

54 shook her head violently, holding a finger to her lips. She unloaded the bag and lined up the bottles. She then handed a lighter to 2672, lit hers, and nodded. 

They grabbed bottles, lit the rags stuffed into them, and lobbed them over the wall.   
---------------   
"Something's on the grill, boys." Cybersix observed, nodding in grudging approval at Serena's unconventional method for returning unsuitable merchandise, "When they pop up, fire!" 

No sooner had she said that when she started firing herself.   
---------------   
"LET'S GO!" 54 shouted when they had tossed all their bottles, taking off after 2672 and heading for the mansion. 

They didn't get far: 54 saw bullets tear into 2672's back and she fell. She ran up to her, grabbed her by the shoulders, lifted her, and started to drag her, only to be hit in the leg herself. 

_"Well, this is it."_ she thought, wincing at the pain and waiting for the end. 

She heard footsteps, then heard machine gun fire immediately above her head. She glanced up and saw her husband, 53, standing over them and firing at the wall. 

Her surge of pride was the last thing she felt on this earth when the grenade that landed less than a meter to their left exploded.   
---------------   
"Boss is gone." Johnny said, voice shaking, watching as the other technos fell from the volley of lobbed grenades. 

The normals turned to Cybersix, only to see her leaning back against the wall, sobbing, tears streaming down her face. 

"He's gone." Vittorio reminded her. 

"I saw. Let's go." Cybersix said, "Lead the way to the back door. I'll take it from there." 

They went through the back door and went to the back wall. Cybersix reloaded her gun as the men moved ladders against the wall and climbed up. She waved for them to stop, paused as if listening, inhaled, and leaped up high over the wall. She spun in mid-air, and shot two bullets to their right. The recoil altered her course in mid-air just as Vittorio heard the burp of an automatic weapon to his left. He poked his head up in time to see a gunman in SWAT gear diving between two cars. He glanced to the right and saw a similarly dressed gunman lying on the sidewalk. 

Cybersix had landed in the street and had also scrambled between two parked cars. She popped up and fired once, then ducked as the other gunman also popped up and fired a long burst, shattering the windshields of the cars between them. 

_"She's going to run out of bullets quick!"_ Vittorio thought, quickly formulating a plan to divert the gunman long enough for her to get him. 

He glanced down and frowned when he saw Cybersix wedging herself in the narrow gap between the two parked cars that shielded her. 

She grunted and straightened her body violently, shoving the parked cars apart. Like dominoes, the two cars struck the cars next to which they were parked, sending them flying into the cars parked next to THEM. 

The loud, long scream made Vittorio jerk his head: It was the fake SWAT cop, caught and pinched between the two cars he had used as a shield! He had dropped his machine gun and was vainly trying to push the cars apart, writhing and screaming in agony. 

"Let's go!" Cybersix shouted, scrambling to her feet. 

The men scrambled over the wall, "This way!" Vittorio yelled, heading for an alley.   
---------------   
"Although the police said that the Trodden body guards turned on their employer, reporters at the scene give a conflicting report of Cyprus and Serena Trodden, with their employees, storming-" 

The young man sitting on the couch glared at the television set, eyes red. His friend, sitting next to him, looked quite uncomfortable and helpless, "Gawd, Mouser. I'm sorry. I know they meant the world to you." 

"They were my family, Eric!" he said morosely, "A real one! They were good people. Why would those bastards do that to them?" he put his head in his hands, "Man, I'm going to miss them!" 

Eric didn't know what to say, and somehow felt that saying something wasn't the right thing to do. Instead, he put his arm around his fellow hacker's shoulders and leaned against him in sympathy, trying to picture life without his own family, and thus try to share the pain. 

After a few minutes, there was a light tapping at the window. The two teens rose and stared, terrified, at the window, "Got a gun?" Mouser asked. 

Eric glanced around, "No! My mom hates them!" 

The person at the window tapped again. 

"Open it." Mouser said suddenly, sounding confident. 

"But it could be-" Eric squeaked. 

"They'd come in shooting and not bother to knock!" 

"Oh." Eric saw the reason in that, went to the window, unlatched it, and lifted it up. He stepped back as a young teenage girl dressed in camoflage pants and green shirt, stepped inside. 

"Mouser?" she asked, straightening up. 

Mouser was staring intently at the visitor, "You're a cyber, aren't you?" 

She bowed her head, "I'm Cybersix. Cyprus sent me to see if you were okay." 

"He did?" 

"Yes. He and Serena were very worried about you." 

"T-They were worried about me? They were getting shot at and they were worried about me?" Mouser sank back onto the couch, put his face in his hands again and began to cry. Cybersix immediately was by his side, put her arms around him, and pulled him into a hug. She felt like shedding a few tears herself, but even a Cyber had limits, and she had run out during the mad run through the back alleys to the warehouse. 

Mouser finally stopped and pulled away, "Well, I guess I'm okay, for now." He said. 

She smiled at him, "You've got information about who's the leader of the attack?" 

He nodded, "Traced it back to a phone exchange in Washington D.C." 

"Any further?" 

He shook his head, "No. Its a special exchange used by the CIA and other yankee intelligence agencies to block traces. Low volume. Big bucks. Awesome security." 

She nodded and smiled, pulling out the cell phone, "That was an impressive bit of hacking you did with this phone." 

Mouser paled, "Is that Cyprus's phone!?!" 

"Why, yes." 

"OH SHIT! They can use the cell phone towers to trace it!" 

The cellphone shattered into splinters as Cybersix crushed it. She arose, went to the window, and looked out. She bit her lip, "Sorry! We've got visitors!"   
--------------   
The agent on the motorcycle got off as the other two got out of the car, "You sure the kid's up there?" he asked them, pulling out his Glock and checking the clip. 

"Yeah. The cell phone is around here, and the address is of one of the members of the local computer club." one said. 

The other nodded, "The traceback from the secure exchange fingered this block too. Kid shouldn't have tried to screw with the White House workstations in revenge, since we were able to trace it back here too." 

"Shit. What did he do?" 

"Don't know. 'That's classified', they told me." 

The three agents went up the stairs and surrounded the door. The leader nodded, and one stood back and kicked the door open. The three rushed inside, crouching and holding their guns out, ready to shoot. 

The apartment was dark except for the television set, which was still announcing the news. The agents went through the rooms, checking everything. 

"Not here." The leader finally concluded, holstering his pistol. 

"So where-" 

The sound of a motorcycle revving made the agent curse and run to the window. He saw a girl driving his motorcycle away, a boy hanging onto her with his arms around her chest, 

"DAMN! They grabbed my cycle!" he shouted, "And the girl the boss wanted is driving it!"   
---------------   
"WHERE ARE WE HEADED NOW?" Mouser shouted. 

"I'M GOING TO THE AIRPORT! I'VE GOT A FLIGHT TO GERMANY TO CATCH!" Cybersix shouted back. 

"I'M COMING WITH YOU!" 

"NO YOU'RE NOT!" 

"YES, I AM! THOSE GUYS WOULD HAVE KILLED ME LIKE THE OTHERS! BESIDES, YOU CAN USE A HACKER LIKE ME!" 

"IT'LL BE DANGEROUS!" 

"YOU GONNA GET THOSE BASTARDS?" 

"YES!" 

"I WANT TO HELP!" 

Cybersix bit her lip, then jerked the cycle down a different alley. 

"HEY! THE AIRPORT IS THAT WAY!" Mouser shouted. 

"I KNOW! I'M GETTING YOU A FAKE PASSPORT!" She shouted back, trying to remember the address of the forger. 

"SO, WHAT'S IN GERMANY?" Mouser shouted, happy for the first time in several days. 

"ANSWERS!" 

"TO WHAT?" 

"Secrets," She murmured to herself, "Family secrets."   



End file.
